


The choices of survival

by puddlexdiver



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Addiction, Alcoholic Harry Potter, Bisexual Draco Malfoy, Bondage, Dark, Past Draco Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson, Praise Kink, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-09-07 03:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 50,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16845913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puddlexdiver/pseuds/puddlexdiver
Summary: Draco has to figure out how to survive the war and how to make impossible choices that he can live with.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ll add tags as needed and recommended. It’s a dark story.

It was the night before the term ended and Draco couldn’t sleep. That wasn’t a new phenomenon. He’d been knocking back dreamless sleep potions like they were shots and he was growing an irritating tolerance to them. When he laid down at night and closed his eyes, all he could imagine was being at home with no father. He imagined that looming absence like a suffocating space. This meant instead of sleeping, he walked the halls of Hogwarts with his prefect badge shining on his chest in case of Filch until his legs ached.

He found himself at the top of the astronomy tower and noticed a long shadow loomed across the space. Someone was sitting on the spelled ledge, spelled so that no one could accidentally or otherwise jump off, with their forehead resting against their bent knees. 

Draco rolled his shoulders, his mouth pulling into a scowl.

“You there,” Draco said, walking closer. “It’s after curfew.”

A low laugh escaped the person on the ledge and Draco realized it was Harry Potter. The moon was full and the light shone on his exposed side.

“I’m aware,” Potter answered, lifting his head to look at Draco, “What are you going to do about it?”

Draco’s head buzzed with annoyance. Potter was a constant pain in his ass.

“I’ll report you. You’ll be suspended,” he retorted and gripped his wand in his hand.

“Fuck it,” Potter cursed and stood to face him. Draco towered over him by a good four inches. Where Draco was slim and tall, Potter was short and stocky. Potter stood toe to toe with him, his nose a hairs breath away from Draco’s. That’s when Draco smelled the bite of vodka wafting off him. He scrunched his nose and took a step back, bringing a hand to cover his nose and mouth.

“Ugh, Potter, you smell like a distillery,” Draco side eyed him. Potter’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes glassy. His hair was a constant wreck as per usual. Potter glared at him for a few minutes, his hands in fists at his side, before his shoulders relaxed.

“Ha,” Potter said, he wandered back to his seat on the ledge. “I really don’t know. It’s pretty awful. Lavender gave it to me, said she thought it’d help me to, oh what was it... unclench.”

“Unclench?” Draco repeated, beginning to edge away from Potter. It seemed like a bad idea to be too close while he had lowered inhibitions. Potter was a thousand times more likely to murder him in the state he was in and he didn’t have plans on dying. “I’m just going to leave you to your... unclenching.”

Potter whipped his head toward him before taking quick steps back into Draco’s personal space. He grabbed Draco’s hand. Draco fought the urge to punch him, to feel bones crunch under his fist. It unsettled him at how quick he was to jump to violence with Potter.

“Unhand me,” Draco growled.

“I didn’t know I wanted you here until you appeared,” Potter said. Like a strange dream, Potter brought Draco’s hand to his face and nuzzled it.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Draco asked, strangled. He tugged his wrist to pull away, but Potter tightened his grip. Draco was sure he was about to start purring like a damn cat. Green eyes flickered to his. 

“You’re pretty,” Potter whispered. “Mean as a snake,” Potter snorts and then softens, “but stunning like one, too.”

Draco felt his stomach knot up and twist. He pushed Potter away from him and the inebriated idiot released him. It didn’t phase Potter though. He just turned away from Draco, stumbling forward to grab the bottle of vodka lying by the ledge on the floor. 

“I’ve only ever wanted to be normal,” Potter slurred, raising the vodka to his lips and sipping. “I don’t think jerking off to my school rival is normal no matter how pretty he is.”

Draco felt all of his body go very hot. He was used to being called pretty, but definitely not by stupid Gryffindors. “Shut up, Potter.”

He reached out and snatched the bottle out of Potter’s hands. Potter’s stupid green owl eyes looked at him with shock behind his glasses frames.

“I would have shared,” Potter whined

“I think that’s enough unclenching for you, Potty,” Draco sneered.

Potter let out a pained noise, releasing a gust of air from his lungs. He seemed to deflate in front of Draco as he sunk to his knees and kept going down until his head was resting on the stone floor. 

“I came up here to look at constellations. My godfather, Sirius Black, he did that with me once. Pointed out which star constellation was his.”

Draco thinned his lips. He’d use to come here because his mother had did the same with him before her disappointment had grown so much that she could barely tolerate looking at him at all. He could still faintly remember a time when he’d been small enough to sit on her lap. She’d stroked his hair and whispered into his ear about the brilliance of stars. Sometimes, if he lay very still with his eyes closed, he could remember that warm and safe feeling. It got harder to find with each passing day.

“How nice it must be to have such a close relationship with a mass murderer,” Draco sniffed. He regretted his antagonizing words when Potter leaped at him like a wild animal. He tackled him with his whole body and Draco stumbled back, barely managing to stay upright. He had the presence of mind to stumble sideways into a stone wall than to crash backwards down the astronomy stairs. His head cracked against the wall’s hard surface. Draco’s vision blurred as he wrestled with Potter. He kept aggressively pressing Draco against the wall. 

“I wish you weren’t such a little shit,” Potter mumbled after slowly losing all fight in his limbs and draping himself against Draco.

“Noted,” Draco replied dryly. He shoved a little, but Potter was hanging off him like a dead weight. “Potter, what’s wrong with you?”

Potter shifted, burying his face into Draco’s shoulder, the sharp edges of his glasses pressing into Draco’s body.

“I feel so lost,” Potter whispered, his voice muffled. He pulled away from Draco. The parts that Potter had been leaning against him felt unexpectedly cold.

“I can relate,” he breathed. It surprised him that it didn’t come out scathing and bitter. His barriers that were so solid felt paper thin under the soft lighting of the moon and stars. Potter’s eyes weren’t focused when he turned and grasped Draco’s hands, palm to palm, dragging him close. Hot breath settled on his neck and he felt that new feeling he got when he looked at Potter too long. He was so near the other boy. He could taste Potter’s scent of spiced sandalwood.

“Don’t fight me,” Potter growled. It wasn’t feral, like their interactions were so often. It was gruff and hopeful. Draco was still, too unsure to move or even breathe. Potter pulled him closer, their bodies connecting at hips and chests. Draco wet his lips. Potter settled his mouth onto Draco’s neck and after a moment, licked his skin. Draco had to bite his lip from making a noise of surprise. His heart rabbited in his chest.

Potter’s lips trailed over his neck, along his jaw, then fastened against his mouth. They stayed that way, settled against each other, frozen in time before Draco kissed back, testing the heat that sparked from his lips to his toes. Potter ran his fingers through Draco’s hair at the base of his neck. He pressed against Potter seeking more.

“Oh…” Draco breathed as their lips parted for air. He brought his free hand up to grasp Potter’s bicep, finding it firm and unyielding under his fingertips. The sensation of being touched, the heat and the kisses, were overwhelming him, making his head spin.

His knees wanted to buckle and he was glad he was leaning against the wall for support. He felt light, too light and maybe a little dizzy. He found that he couldn’t drag in enough air to soothe his aching lungs. The weight of Potter against him began to feel like too much.

He pushed Potter off him and stumbled the few steps to the ladder that would lead him away from the Astronomy Tower.

“Malfoy, wait,” Potter called after him. He ignored him. He was fairly certain that Potter wasn’t following him. It seemed to take seconds to get back to Slytherin dorms. He was grateful that no one was in the Common Room when he entered. He wasn’t sure if he could pretend that he was fine.

He dressed for bed and downed a numbing potion and then another dreamless sleep. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pulled the curtains of his bed around him as he laid down. He did eventually find sleep, his last thought on repeat. What have a I done?


	2. Chapter 2

Draco woke up to a pillow landing on his face. Blaise stood over him fully dressed. His robes were pressed and his dark hair perfectly styled. Draco bet that he’d even shined his shoes. Blaise always tried to look sharp for his mother. Draco sat up almost knocking into Blaise.

“What time is it?” He asked and his voice sounded raspy to his ears. His stomach burned from the acidity of the potions he’d consumed and his head ached as if he were suffering from a hangover. The taste of Potter’s vodka flavored kiss was a phantom memory on his tongue.

“Past breakfast,” Blaise informed him, sitting on his own bed across from him. “We’ve got about an hour till the train leaves. Please tell me you’re going to shower.”

He couldn’t bring himself to speak. There were no witty comebacks when he felt as awful as he did. He got up and searched in his trunk for his toiletries and a change of clothes for a shower. His hand hovered over the pepper up potion stored there. He knew that mixing so many potions in a short amount of time was a bad idea, but he was going home today. Just thinking about his mother filled him with dread. Then his mind flashed to earnest green eyes with a backdrop of twinkling stars and Draco was pretty sure Potter was going to try and punch him in the face later. His fingers closed around the vial and he stood up making his way to the bathroom.

He took a steaming shower to try and burn away his symptoms, but it only managed to turn his skin a lobster red. He looked at himself in the mirror, finding the skin under his eyes were stained blue black and his cheeks looked hollowed out. Draco uncorked the vial of pepper up and raised it to his lips, taking a fast swig to drain the contents. He stared at himself in the mirror waiting for the potion to kick in. He could see when it started working. The heaviness in his gaze lifted. Draco felt the tightness in his chest lessen.

When he made it to the Great Hall to join the other students, he was in pristine clothes, his own shoes shined, his hair gelled back, and his smirk settled in place. He, for all intents and purposes, looked normal and really, that was half the battle. He’d decided while he was getting ready that if Potter felt like he needed to air the events of the night before, he’d deny it. Laugh Potter right out of Hogwarts.

It didn’t come to that. Draco had successfully avoided him the whole way. He stole glances at the chosen one and took glee that he looked worse than Draco had when he’d woke up that morning. Potter wore wrinkled clothing that Draco could confirm he’d been wearing the night before and his hair stuck up more than usual. He wondered if Potter had been too drunk to remember what happened.

He’d sat comfortably nestled in a compartment with Vince and Greg on the train. Even Blaise sat with him and hadn’t overwhelmed him with his obnoxious chatter. With the pepper up potion working in his body, he felt great as he said goodbye to his friends and made his way home.

His mother greeted him at the door of Malfoy Manor. She’d done her make up to look like a doll with porcelain skin and a splash of pink color on her lips that stretched into a smile.

“Mother,” he greeted her, air kissing both cheeks. “It’s good to see you.”

“Welcome home, son,” Narcissa smoothed the fabric of his robe. “Let the elves take your things. There’s a gathering in the dining room and there are some people who are very keen on meeting you. Officially.”

Draco didn’t notice at first, but Narcissa didn't usually smile, especially not for him. He lowered his trunk to the ground. “Is something a matter, Mother?”

“Of course not, dear.”

She turned from him as easy as a breeze. They entered the dining room and Draco almost faltered at the scene that greeted him. A woman hung upside down, her skirt bunching around her waist revealing stockings and a conservative pair of nude underwear. Draco took in the modest Mary Jane shoes before looking down to the woman’s face. She was gagged, the skin around her mouth pulled back tight into folds. He tried very hard not to notice the blood running down the her body from various cuts across her exposed arms and legs. He couldn’t quite see how deep all of them were.

He didn’t realize he’d stopped walking until his mother’s sharp nails dug into his flesh, pulling him forward to an empty seat at the table. When he felt like he was capable, he took in his surroundings. Several people, his parents friends and some strangers, sat at the table. They sat somber with frowns pulling down their features. Draco found he couldn’t hold his gaze on them for very long. A terrible snake like creature sat at the head of the table, a place he was used to seeing his father at. It’s red eyes gazed with sharp intent at him. 

“My Lord, may I introduce to you my son Draco”

Draco had plenty of years in training for polite society as crafted by Narcissa. He reached for that etiquette now as he melted his face into a small smile and dipped his head in deference. His hand reached out to grip the chair in front of him to give himself stability. This was fine. He was fine. Everything was going to be just fine. The woman in the middle of the table let out a pained whimper. 

Well, everything would be fine except for maybe her.

The creature, the Dark Lord he supposed, stood and Draco noticed how his black robes clashed with his leather beige skin. Draco’s mind whirred. It was obviously Voldemort. Draco knew this scenario was a probability in his future after the rumors of the Dark Lord’s return and then the sentencing of his father to Azkaban. He’d just assumed it was in the distant future. And he’d assumed there’d be less blood and the Dark Lord would look more... human. And his father would have been there by his side.

“Draco Malfoy,” Voldemort greeted him and his voice was high pitched yet wispy in a way that had Draco straining to catch his words. “Sit, Narcissa and Draco. This is your home, is it not?”

Voldemort chuckled like he’d said a joke. Draco moved on autopilot and sat down with the others gathered around the table. He trained his eyes forward to focus on the table in front of him, studying the polished grain of the cherry wood, but he could feel the Dark Lord moving around the table. He felt chilled as he drew closer.

Voldemort laid his hand on Draco’s shoulder.

“Look at me, boy,” Voldemort whispered. Draco swallowed. He’d been doing his best to avoid being there in his own mind, in his own body. His gaze lifted to meet the glittering red slits of the Dark Lord inches from his face. “You don’t like looking at this face?”

Draco’s mouth was dry, but he licked his lips and felt a shiver go down his spine when the Dark Lord lowered his gaze to watch. He shook his head instead of speaking, afraid of what would come out. Voldemort released a chortled laugh. 

The Dark Lord smiled venom at him with his slit of a mouth, “Not surprising. No one could enjoy a face like this. Soon though, you’ll enjoy looking upon me.”

He released Draco and walked back to his seat. Draco’s throat worked and he knew he needed to say something, anything. He stood as the Dark Lord reached his chair at the end of the table. “I admire your power more so than what physical features can compare.”

The Death Eaters assembled shifted, some squinting at him from where they had been looking away when the Dark Lord had him in his clutches.

Voldemort sat down, leaving Draco standing, shifting foot to foot. He waved a hand in Draco’s direction. “Sit, boy. Your father may have taught you how to lick the boots of your superiors, but I’m uninterested in empty flattery.”

Draco sat heavily in his seat, his gaze down at the table again where a small trickle of blood oozed towards him. The insult of his father weighed on his shoulders.

“Severus,” Voldemort turned to his right hand chair. Draco hadn’t realized his professor was there and the realization made him want to throw up. “Draco is the youngest and most naive of our esteemed ranks here and it seems as if Narcissa and Lucius have spoiled him. I want you to take him under your wing. You’ll be able to teach him how to evade Dumbledore’s eye while at Hogwarts. You will shape him into a useful asset to us.”

“Of course, my lord,” Severus answered. Draco didn’t dare look up.

He sat frozen through the rest of the meeting and he barely noticed when the others around him began to leave their seats. Narcissa took his elbow and guided him out of the room. When the door closed behind them, she leaned into Draco’s space and whispered, “Do not dare become an embarrassment to me like your father.”

“I won’t, mother,” he breathed. She stared at him with a cool gaze before accepting his answer and gliding away. The space in front of the dining hall cleared quickly and Draco followed, walking away from the doors and Voldemort and the bloodied victim. He didn’t make it far before the shaking in his legs he’d failed to notice almost made him crumple to the ground.

Draco stopped, resting his hand against the wall, his head hanging low between his shoulders. He felt a strange urgency in his chest that pulled so tight it felt like it was going to choke him. He began to count his breaths in a desperate attempt to calm down. His potions were wearing off and he felt exposed and raw. 

He felt a touch on his neck where it met his spine. He jerked hard and he felt one of his muscles in his side ache from the force of the contraction. 

“Draco,” he heard his name hissed and knew who was behind him with a sickening clarity. He straightened his shoulders, numb. He turned to face the Dark Lord, keeping his head bowed low and even considered dropping to one knee if he’d had the space.

“My Lord,” Draco said deferentially. “How may I be of service to you?”

One long pale finger touched the underside of his chin, tipping his face up to meet the Dark Lord’s strange red eyes. Draco always prided his height, but it did him no favors with the monster in front of him. Voldemort stood only a few inches taller than him and it left him unbalanced.

“You remind me of someone I use to know. You look at me with the same traitorous Black family eyes,” Voldemort murmured, his fingers tightening around Draco’s chin.

A silence hung between them, Draco worked his throat, grasping at something to say. “I would never betray you. My mother and Aunt Bellatrix have always been loyal.”

Voldemort withdrew his hand and smacked Draco across the face. It didn’t hurt badly even though the sheer shock of the blow had him dragging in air through his nose. He kept his head down with his eyes lowered in subservience. He learned to tread so carefully like this with his mother when he was younger. He fell back into that practice. They stood together, Draco’s breath echoing in the corridor for a few weighted heartbeats before the Dark Lord grabbed the back of his head, jerking his hair back and cracking his neck with the force.

“I’m not interested in what you have to say,” Voldemort’s usual high serpentine voice deepened to gravel next to his ear. He felt the snake like lips moving against his skin. “I’m only interested in how useful you are to me. And maybe to look at, if I please.”

Draco had always been called pretty. His mind flashed to Potter calling him pretty on the Astronomy Tower not even twenty four hours ago. He used his attractiveness to his advantage so often over the years. He’d never thought it would lead to this. 

“A moment, my lord,” Severus interjected, and his voice startled Draco. He hadn’t realized Severus was there. Voldemort leaned away from him, his long fingers still tangled in his hair.

“Of course, Severus,” Voldemort jerked once more on Draco’s hair, making the back of his head throb. “Mr. Malfoy and I understand one another, don’t we, Draco?”

“Yes, my lord,” Draco agreed. Voldemort released him and Draco’s legs shook and he took the opportunity to lower to his knees. He pressed the palms of his hands into the stone to keep them from visibly shaking. Draco watched the edge of Voldemort’s robe sweep away from him with a racing heart.

It took him more time than he cared to think about to find his feet and walk to his room.


	3. Chapter 3

After the meeting with the Dark Lord on his arrival from Hogwarts, Draco planned to hide in his room for the majority of summer break. However, his potions stock got dangerously low. He could admit that he had a slight dependency on them, as lacking of their effects became over time. He’d trekked out on his fifth night home while it was late at night. He’d thought the manor would be deserted from the usual operation of political allies that seemed to be ever present in his home. He was very wrong about the house being empty as there seemed to be a party happening in the ballroom. He skirted the main hallways and hid in the long shadows that light drew around various sculptures and artwork. The laughter and noise followed him, though, and he considered going back to his rooms before nausea rolled in his gut. He needed more potions before he got too sick to make them.

He thought he’d made it, the boisterous music and clinking of glasses behind him, but as he was about to turn a corner to go to the lower levels where his lab was, a voice called out for him.

“Draco, hey, wait, Draco…”

He turned and slipped his smirk on his face as easy as slipping on a hat. “Theo, enjoying yourself?”

Theodore Nott stopped in his tracks a few feet away from him, his grin drooping a little as he got closer to Draco. “Well, I was going to ask why you weren’t at the party, but you look awful. What’s wrong with you?”

“Under the weather. On my way to fetch a few potions to cure it in no time,” Draco attempted to relax his shoulders, but he wasn’t sure he’d succeeded. He hoped Nott would think he was ill and let him go. The bastard came closer to him instead.

“Crazy, huh, a revolution taking place under your roof?” He asked. Draco twitched. He hadn’t meant too, but his body felt out of his control and it slipped from him as every second ticked by.

“Yes, crazy,” Draco realized that his tone was completely dead and he’d lost all his will to act normal in front of Nott. He needed to get away from this clinger on as fast as he could.

“You’d think those in power would pick a family a little more reliable for the job, don’t you think?” Theo leaned forward and Draco felt the obvious insult like a sucker punch. Nott had never been Draco’s closest friend, he’d been a person hanging around outside of his orbit. The urge to squash this ant had Draco resisting the need to vomit and he got even closer to Nott’s grinning face.

He was going to say something scathing, something that would eviscerate Nott for weeks. Except, when he opened his mouth, all that came out was the relatively empty contents of his stomach. Pungent smelling stomach acid splashed out of Draco’s mouth, onto Nott’s sleek gray dress robe and splattered against the nice polish of his dress shoes.

“What the-“ Nott jumped back as Draco continued to retch. The contents fell harmlessly against the ground. “You’re disgusting.”

Draco would have agreed with him, but he’d turned on his heel and stalked away as Draco continued to dry heave. That probably could have been handled better. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and walked a bit wobbly the rest of the way to his lab without any other confrontations.

When he finally made it to his lab, he closed and locked the door. He’d made it. He smoothed his hand over the surface of his prep table and he gripped the handle of the knife he used on ingredients. Standing there with the silence all around him, the thick aroma of the various potions ingredients in the air, settled him. He took a deep breath and began to make his potions. The very process a relief as much as the potions themselves.

It took him hours to finish with his first batch. He knocked back a pepper up potion and continued to make dreamless sleep and a variety of others. When his wrist began to ache from the constant use of the knife and mortar for his ingredients, he finally called for a house elf to bring him a cot and a pillow. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there. With an attached bathroom and no windows, it began to seem like he could stay there forever. He slept when he found himself exhausted and would always wake up from a nightmare. Potions began to stain his hands and his hair stuck to his forehead. It was as if he was in autopilot and couldn't stop. He felt free standing over a cauldron.

A knock on the door brought him out of his deep trance. He froze, debating on whether he should pretend he wasn’t there.

“Draco, it’s Blaise.”

Draco steadied his hands against the table in front of him.

“I’m a little busy right now, Blaise,” Draco called out to him. He was surprised to hear his own voice raspy from disuse. “Come by later when I’m free.”

“I’m not leaving until you open this door, Draco,” Blaise said through the wood. “And if you don’t answer, I’ll have Pansy come over and get your mother involved.”

Draco sighed. He reluctantly opened the door for his friend.

“Ugh, Draco,” Blaise actually covered his nose as he walked by him. Blaise raised his wand and cast a charm on him. The cleaning spell made his skin tingle. “When’s the last time you bathed?”

Draco wrinkled his forehead to think. He couldn’t remember. He shook his head as if to clear it. Blaise laid a tentative hand on his shoulder.

“Have you ate today?” Blaise asked.

“I-“ he began, but faltered. When had he ate last? “I guess not.”

Blaise nodded. “Let’s grab some lunch, yeah?”

Draco’s immediate instinct was to say no, but his stomach growled loud enough to be embarrassing. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“No one is here, by the way,” Blaise added, “If you’re wondering. A house elf let me in.”

Draco nodded and moved out of the doorway of his potions lab a little sluggishly. He felt like he weighed a million pounds.

“Maybe we could have lunch outside in the garden? You look a bit like death, Draco,” Blaise continued. Draco laughed hollowly. Until Blaise had showed up, he’d felt a little like death.

“That sounds great.”

His eyes watered when he stepped out into the sun. They settled at one of the garden’s wire framed tables and the house elf served them small cucumber sandwiches. Draco’s first nibble made his stomach turn as it settled on his taste buds. He swallowed it down thickly.

“I had to come check on you. We hadn’t heard from you- Vince, Greg, and I- and then we’d met up with Theo and Pansy in Diagon Alley and Theo said you weren't doing so great.”

“I was sick last week when I saw him. I’m feeling a little better now. I tossed chunks all over that wanker, though,” Draco released a laugh at the memory.

Blaise smirked. “He had a thing or two to say about that as well.”

Draco took another bite out of his sandwich and found it easier to swallow. Having Blaise in front of him made what was going on in his house smaller somehow.

“Did Theo happen to mention why he was at the manor in the first place?” Draco maintained eye contact with Blaise. Blaise inclined his head.

“It’s not a secret. We all know what’s going on here,” Blaise replied. “My mother has specifically ordered me to stay far away from you, but I rarely listen to her.”

“Don't be ridiculous. Of course you do. Besides, she’s not wrong,” Draco warned. He picked at the crust on his bread. “It’s not safe, what’s happening here.”

They sat in silence for a minute. Blaise studied him from across the table and Draco steeled himself for judgement. It never came.

“Come with me when I leave,” Blaise finally said. “I have some contacts in France-“

Draco stood up. “No.”

Blaise stood up as well. “Draco, think about-“

“You should leave.”

“We both know you’re not cut out for whatever this is. This political revolution that Theo keeps blathering on about. We’ve all heard stories from the war back in the day. It’s barbaric, what they’ll do. Let me help you.”

Draco slammed his hand down making the plates rattle against the wrought iron. “I said no. What is happening here is what my family has worked very hard for. We wanted this. I cannot abandon them.”

“Draco,” Blaise leaned forward, covering his hand with his own, “You owe your mother no loyalty. You can’t help your father where he is now. There’s nothing left for you here.”

He swallowed and withdrew his hand from under Blaise’s. “There’s still a chance, Blaise, that he can be saved. I can’t leave my father in prison. Let’s be real here. If he has a chance to get out of Azkaban, it won’t be under the current Ministry.”

They stood facing each other silently until Blaise nodded. “I can’t come back, you know. Even at Hogwarts, I won’t be able to associate with you. The Zabini’s are neutral in this.”

“I understand,” he agreed. It didn’t stop his heart from pounding in his ears. “I’m glad you came by.”

“I’ll see you around, Draco,” Blaise took a step back. “Try to take care of yourself, okay?”

“I always do,” he replied and it came out as cold as ice. Draco sat outside in the sun for a few more minutes before he retreated back to his lab.

The lab seemed colder, darker to Draco after that. Irritation crawled under his skin and he knew that his tolerance to the potions were getting worse. He couldn’t brew any stronger ones without the risk of damaging his body irreparably. He stalked to his storage, the glittering vials of fresh potions sat pristine and beautiful. He palmed one off the shelf and tossed it into the air. He caught it as easy as if it were a golden snitch and then flung it into the corner. The glass shattered on impact and the liquid splattered the walls and ground. It was a chaotic mess.

Draco turned from the shards and liquid to grab a textbook from the bookshelf. He thunked the tome down on his workbench and began to research. His current potions wouldn't be enough for him. The buzzing under his skin kept getting worse. He’d have to create what he needed.

He spent days reading and tweaking recipes. The memory of Blaise's offer to help him escape the manor becoming fuzzy at best. He still woke up from dreams of Voldemort hanging him upside down like the woman in his dining room. He drank the experimental potions himself and he suffered side effects of temporary blurred vision, his skin turning a pale green for a time, among general digestion issues. It was on the sixth night the he was successful. He’d barely slept at that point and his hands were quick to start shaking. He’d had to switch his hands often to stay steady enough to not effect the potion. When he’d finished with his batch, he took a sip from his ladle and felt a soothing burn flow down his throat.

His fingers began to tingle, his heart felt light and it was as if he could feel each individual hair on his head. He felt great. His ever present stomach sickness receded and he actually felt like he could eat something. He rubbed a hand across his face and it came away greasy.

He had an urgent need to be clean. He left his potions lab to go to his rooms for the first time in weeks. He didn’t feel the anxiety in his chest the way he usually did when he thought about stepping out of his lab. To his surprise, as he walked the hallways of the manor to his rooms, it looked as if the sun was just rising. He stopped in front of an arching window to watch the warm orange and red colors chase the darkness away.

When he made it to his rooms, he ran a bath, pouring in oils for relaxation. The smell of sandalwood curled in his nostrils as he stepped into the tub of hot water. A curl of arousal surprised him as he laid back against the marble enclosure. It occurred to him, like a slow wave crashing gently across the shore, that Potter had smelled like sandalwood. That when he’d had Draco against the wall, pressing his body into his, he’d smelled that intriguing scent under the toxic burn of vodka. The memory and the hug of hot water relaxing his muscles had Draco running his hands across his body, down to his growing cock. He lost himself to the memory of Potter’s lips on his, Potter’s tongue invading his mouth, the wet slide of his tongue. How Potter’s fingers gripped him so hard like Draco would fade away if he didn’t hold on tight.

He wanted more. His hand worked his cock hard and fast and it didn’t take long before he was coming. Draco felt empty and his muscles weak, but he got out and changed the water, pouring more sandalwood into it. He scrubbed himself clean, washing the grease out of his hair. By the time Draco wrapped himself in his towel, the potion was wearing off and he felt a weight starting to fall against him. He was able to collapse against his bed naked and still a little damp before he fell unconscious.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco dragged a shaky breath in, holding it in his lungs as he downed his shot of potion. He exhaled as he slammed the vial down, wiping his mouth with the back of a gloved hand. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. The potion burned, almost a comforting burn, as it flowed down his throat. In a way it reminded him of drinking very good, very old Scotch. Almost like the time his father had sat him down after his second year at Hogwarts, he’d scored very good marks and a spot on the quidditch team. He’d handed him a crystal glass full of brown liquid, and when Draco drank it, his father had laid his hand on his shoulder as he choked it down.

“You’ll have to do even better next year, Draco, if you’re to be worthy of your name,” Lucius said, squeezing his shoulder.

This was the second one for the day. The potion tasted foul, but it was worth it. Draco wiped both gloved hands over his face as he walked to the desk in his lab at the Manor. He could feel the effects begin to tingle through his body, uncurling the heavy stress that weighed in his gut. He felt like he could finally breath fresh air. He gulped it down greedily.

Draco jumped at the sound of a knock on the door.

“Darling,” his mother called to him, “I’m having some guests for dinner later. I’ll need you to attend. It’s very important you’re at your best.”

“Of course, mother,” Draco agreed. He didn’t bother getting up to let her in, his limbs felt heavy and relaxed. He could hear the soft echo of Narcissa’s heels as she left. After his eighteenth birthday that had came and went four days previous without Narcissa as much as acknowledging his presence, he’d been grateful that she was leaving him alone.

Draco felt like air as he pulled on his formal wear. He chose dark gray dress robes and tied a silken green scarf around his neck for color. Without the potion coursing through his system, he’d probably feel anxiety about leaving his room ratchet through him. Instead, he found himself smiling as he descended the manor’s stairway to find his mother already positioned by the door to greet their guests.

Draco admired that Narcissa could look so much like an ice queen. Her pale blue dress cascaded down her hips in waves, tiny blue sapphires sewn into intricate patterns caught the light from the chandelier like icicles. Her hair was pulled up and back to show off the angles of her face. Narcissa nodded to Draco as he took his place behind her. Guests began to filter in dressed as extravagant as Narcissa. He thought that he may not have dressed appropriate enough for the event, but the thought whispered away as Greg and Vince entered behind their fathers.

The two had sent him a brief letter of congratulations on his birthday, but other than that, had been absent during his break. It was good to see them. Draco had been too overwhelmed to think about how odd their distance had been.

“It’s good to see you,” he greeted his friends. They shared looks of sobriety on their faces, more solemn than they were usually. 

“You, too, Draco,” Vince said curtly, before guiding Greg away. Draco felt a dreamy feeling of his friends falling away from him like white dandelion puffs as he watched their broad outlines retreat away from him. It didn’t last long because a second later Pansy had his hand in hers, her long vibrantly red painted nails contrasting against his skin.

“Draco,” she purred, leaning in for a hug. “You’ve not been responding to any of my letters this summer.”

Draco’s smile came easy for her as it usually did. Pansy’s dark hair curled in a styled mess around her head, her lips painted a red that matched her nails. Her long gown clung to her curves. He remembered the last time he’d been alone with her in the Slytherin common room. She’d sat in his lap after exams, her skirt riding high across her thighs as kissed him senseless. They’d had to stop when the others had came in and started complaining about too much PDA.

“Sorry about that, Pans,” he apologized. He brought her hand up to brush against the back of her hand with his lips. “Say you’ll let me make it up to you tonight?”

Pansy smirked at him as she stepped away. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

He watched her as she walked away, wishing he could take her to his rooms and hide with her till the sun came up.

“Good evening, Mr. Malfoy,” Severus stepped in front of him, effectively blocking his view. The potion that Draco created had been doing a good job at muting his anxiety, but the mere presence of his professor had his face twitching. He hadn’t seen him since he’d arrived to the manor on that first day. Granted, he hadn’t seen many people at all since then.

“Sir,” Draco acknowledged him mildly. Draco was tall enough that he could look directly into his professor’s eyes. When he’d first realized that about half way through the term the year before, it had made him flush hotly under Severus’ gaze. Now all Draco felt was dread that seemed to be mirrored back at him in the black of his eyes.

Severus narrowed his eyes at Draco. The other man’s presence seemed to bear down on him. He felt the power of Severus’ broad shoulders, the strong body under the robes and fought the urge to shiver. He shifted under the scrutiny before Severus nodded to him and stepped away, entering the growing gathering in the ballroom.

When the number of guests had dwindled down to a mere trickle, Narcissa took Draco’s arm and guided him to the ballroom.

“We’re to introduce our special guest for the night, dear,” Narcissa was smiling again as they took the stairs up the stage the orchestra played from that looked out at the crowd of dancing and drinking guests. Draco could spot a few from the crowd like Pansy in her stunning dress. It felt easy like it was just another normal gathering his family had organized over the years. 

Except that his father was absent. And if he looked closely, none of the attendees were smiling in their usual boisterous, had too much to drink already way when the event was for one of their usual charity gatherings. The room held a sense of seriousness that he’d not encountered before. Draco stopped about a foot behind his mother as Narcissa cast the charm to enhance her voice.

“Thank you for those who’ve decided to join us tonight,” Narcissa spoke warmly, her shoulders rolled back and her head held high. She’d stopped appearing in public when Lucius had went to jail and Draco realized he’d missed seeing his mother like this. “The Malfoy family welcomes you to our home as we celebrate a fruitful beginning for our families and the whole of the Wizarding community.”

A small applause broke out amongst the crowd. Draco noticed a tall man stepping up to the stage. As he came closer, the hair on Draco’s neck stood on end. The man had dark hair perfectly coiffed and broad shoulders. He appeared to be in his mid thirties with very fine lines around thin lips. Glinting red pupils danced as they watched him falter in recognition.

“Let me introduce you to our special guest. The one who will be shepherding us into the bright future ahead,” Narcissa paused for effect. The man was beside her by then, passing in front of Draco. He touched Narcissa’s back with his fingertips.

“Thank you, Narcissa,” the man said and his voice was deep with a slight high pitched hiss of the sharp sounds in Narcissa’s name. “Why don’t you and your son join them?”

He smiled without teeth at her and she looked down. The queen had been demoted. Draco stepped up to offer her his arm. She took it and they joined the audience as guests at their own party.

Narcissa kept her hand wrapped tightly on his arm. Supporting his mother was probably the only thing that kept him standing in the audience and not running back to his rooms. He felt foolish for not realizing what was going on. Several of the faces he’d seen entering his home were the same ones that had been seated around his dining room table conveniently not noticing the blood oozing out of a dying woman.

“My friends, I am Lord Voldemort,” Voldemort began and the room remained tensely silent. “I’m so glad you could join us. As you can see, death looks fabulous on me.”

A small gasp of laughter trickled from the audience. Draco was mortified.

“I’ve defeated death, and if I can defeat death, I can defeat anything in our path that will block our goals,” Voldemort walked the stage like a practiced politician. “For too long has the Wizarding World given what’s rightfully yours to the dirty, the unclean, the undeserving. For too long they’ve pandered to the weak muggle government by failing to assert our supreme rights as superior magical beings.

“That time is over.”

A loud uproar of applause deafened the ballroom. Voldemort raised a hand. The room quieted.

“They think they’ve won. They think they’ve beaten us down and made us victims. They’re wrong.”

Another wave of resounding applause.

“We’re going to take power back into our hands. To do that, we’re going to have to fight for it. And when we go to war, we’ll need our allies.”

Draco felt a strange mix of hope and dread twist in his stomach.

“My promise to you is that we’ll release our friends and loved ones from their wrongful imprisonment in Azkaban within the month.”

A roar erupted around him as Voldemort encouraged his followers. Draco felt his stomach bottom out and the tight grip of his mothers nails kept him in his body. He’d had a potion only a little over an hour ago, but he viscerally needed another. He glanced at his mother. She had her smile glued to her face, but he could tell it was fake. He didn’t understand why she wasn’t happy. He didn’t understand why he wasn’t filled with joy at the prospect of having his father back.

“Tonight,” Voldemort continued, “we gather. We discuss. We plan. Find me in the room tonight and talk with me about how I can make your hopes and dreams come true.”

Voldemort nodded his head at the cheering people and waved as he descended the stairs. He headed toward Draco.

“Narcissa, inform our esteemed guests of the evening entertainment,” Voldemort ordered. His thin lips pulled back in a mockery of a grin.

His mother’s smile never faltered. She spared Draco a quick glance from under her lashes before bowing her head and releasing Draco’s arm. Uneasiness itched at Draco’s skin as Voldemort scrutinized him.

“I have something for you, Draco,” Voldemort addressed him. He put his hand on Draco’s shoulder and it took everything in him not to flinch away as if he’d been bitten. “Follow me to the study, would you?”

Draco nodded as Voldemort’s hand slid down his shoulder to his elbow and guided him out of the ballroom, passing interested onlookers who didn’t dare interrupt their business, and into the emptiness of the rest of the manor. It was a quiet journey. Once they stood in front of Lucius’ ornate study door, Draco realized that Voldemort had made it his. A small pang echoed in his chest for the memory of being in his father’s study. He’d learned to play chess with his father in the study when he was younger. He doubted that’s what he’d been dragged there to do with Voldemort. 

The fireplace remained mostly the same with ornate carvings twisted into marble. A new rug was placed a safe distance in front of it. The rug was green with pictures of black snakes eating the tails of other snakes in a chaotic dance of wriggling bodies. A white wing backed chair with a mahogany finish sat by the edges of the rug.

Voldemort closed the door behind Draco. He released Draco’s arm from his grip and walked around the rug to sit in the chair. He looked like a king settled on his throne. “Do you like it? The rug? It’s rumored to be an ancient possession of Salazar Slytherin.”

“It’s quite fascinating,” Draco agreed. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with his hands.

“Do you think?” Voldemort asked and he had his piercing red eyes on Draco, pinning him to the spot. It was unnerving to see those eyes looking at him through the face of a normal man. “Come. Take a closer look.”

Draco stepped forward. Voldemort waved his hand and Draco’s knees buckled from under him and he barely caught himself with his forearms to not bust his nose on the ground.

“You must get close to see the true artistic beauty.”

Draco kept his head very low as he nodded. “It is very beautiful, my lord.”

“Sit up, boy,” Voldemort hissed and Draco straightened his spine. He kept his eyes lowered. “I’ve been wanting to add to the piece. Mark it up to truly make it my own. I think I’ve found my muse.”

Silence stretched between them with Draco too afraid to say anything else. Voldemort stood up and Draco’s heart began to beat wildly in his chest. He focused on the wand in Voldemort’s hand twirling at leisure through long fingers.

“My lord, I am your loyal servant,” Draco began to babble as Voldemort came closer. Voldemort laughed and Draco bit his tongue at the sound.

“Silencio,” Voldemort waved his wand at him. He didn’t have time to feel anything else when his body flew through the air to collide with the ceiling. His vision swam from the impact to the back of his head and his right shoulder ached. Blinking rapidly to clear his vision, he realized he’d been stuck to the ceiling and was looking down on the rug. Voldemort disappeared his clothing, leaving him almost naked except for his underwear. Chill bumps from the air or from fear trailed across the surface of his body. Voldemort hummed in approval. “You’re going to be my most loyal pet, Draco. Don’t worry about that.”

Even though there was no sound coming from his throat, Draco screamed as Voldemort’s spells began to cut into his skin.


	5. Chapter 5

All Draco could think about as he stumbled away from his father’s study - no, Voldemort’s office - was that his throat hurt so much more than the gaping wound on his torso. He’d never of thought screaming silently would have such an impact on his esophagus, but really, he’d never imagined himself tortured before. He’s not quite sure how he made it to his bedroom, but by the time he reached his door, he was slumping against the wall as he walked and blood soaked through the middle section of his robes. Voldemort gave him the decency of magicking his clothes back on him at least. He fell against the handle of his bedroom door, swinging it open and dumping to the floor.

“Ugh, are you drunk?” It was Pansy. Draco grunted in response. His room basked in a soft orange glow from torches and Pansy sat mostly naked on his bed. Any other time he would of appreciated the view of her spread out on his green duvet, looking like a goddess in black satin panties and matching bra. The lingerie set really accentuated the fairness of her skin and the darkness of her hair and eyes. He wasn’t sure if he should be happy she was here or mortified that she’s about to see him bleed out on the floor. She stood up and gasped. “Is that blood?”

“Yes, help,” he tried to say, but it ended up an unintelligible croak. Pansy came forward with her wand in hand. She pushed him down to his back and began to cut his clothes away from his body.

“I’d imagined taking your clothes off in a very different situation, Draco,” Pansy muttered as she cast cleaning charms to remove the blood on his body. She transfigured the clean bottoms of his robes into bandages and put pressure on his wounds. It hurt. A lot.

Draco coughed. “Water?”

Pansy nodded, her red lips pursed. She called a house elf to them and had them bring Draco water. The liquid lessened the burn in his throat. 

“I have some potions, they’ll stop the bleeding,” Draco tried, his throat working through the burn. “In the cupboard, grab one purple and two green vials.”

“Hold your bandages, they need as much pressure as you can manage,” she ordered before standing to leave him. Draco watched as she went to his potions storage cupboard. Streaks of his blood stained her pale legs, dipping into the dimple by her right knee. He felt almost too lightheaded to still be alive.

“I can feel you staring at my ass, Draco,” Pansy said as she opened the cabinet. Draco tried to laugh, but it came out as a strangled gurgle. Pansy slid back to Draco as she uncorked the potions for him. They burned his already tortured throat. Draco almost got the third one down before he started coughing uncontrollably.

“It’s a nice ass,” Draco wheezed. “I think I’m going to pass out.”

“Don’t you fucking do that, I swear-“

Draco tried to stay awake, he really did, but right before he drifted away, he hoped he wouldn’t wake up.

He did wake up, though, eventually. His body felt sore and like cotton had filled his mouth while he was sleeping. He was surprised to find that he was in his bed and in a pair of silk gray pajamas. He lifted his shirt to find clean bandages applied to his stomach. Had Pansy done this?

He sat there for long moments before he stood up and almost fell over. A wave of dizziness and nausea hit him hard. Not only was he wounded, but he was beginning to withdraw from his potions. Draco straightened his back and gripped the bed post for support to take him to his cabinet. When he touched the handle of the cupboard, he flinched away, his fingertips stinging.

His bedroom door opened and Draco did fall as he tried to whip around to protect himself from the intruder. He hit his hip on his fall and it jarred his wounds. A pitiful moan escaped him.

Severus appeared over him, offering him a hand to grab. Draco looked at the hand, its long fingers he’d stared at for hours on end during potion classes, before he accepted it. It was warm and solid under his palm.

“Mr. Malfoy, I came to check in on you,” Severus said, pulling him from the ground and placing his free hand on Draco’s shoulder to steady him as he wobbled on his feet. “You should sit down.”

“Yes, but I think I’m going to-“ Draco slapped his hand over his mouth as Severus calmly transfigured a receptacle for him to vomit in. Draco leaned over it gratefully and dry heaved. It made his stomach wound pulse in agony. His knees shook under him and Severus hefted most of his weight to get him to his bed.

“I expect you’ll be sick for a few more days and then the worst of it will pass,” Severus said, stepping away as Draco settled himself back into his bed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a container with thick salve. "Use this twice daily. No potions necessary. There will be very little scarring, if any."

“I’ll be fine,” Draco replied, “I just need to get in to my cabinet.”

“You’ll not be needing anything in that cabinet, Draco,” Severus said and his voice had turned to ice. “I’m not sure what you were trying to create with that potion I found in your stock, but you will not be ingesting that poison ever again.”

Draco felt the sick sensation of dread fill him up from his toes to his fingertips. “Sir, you can’t just-“

“I can do whatever the hell I want,” Severus growled. Draco looked away from his professor. He felt shame spread across his face and hated how obvious it was on his pale skin.

“How did you know to find me like this?” Draco asked.

“Ms. Parkinson alerted me to your condition. She sent your house elf to inform me that I needed to get my ass to your room immediately,” he replied easily. He swept his robes around him as he went to sit in Draco’s reading seat adjacent to his bed. “I sent her away as soon as I saw the mark engraved into your skin.”

Draco swallowed. “I didn’t…”

“I know,” Severus cut him off. “I’ve seen this before. The Dark Lord may be seeing a bit more of your cousin, Regulus Black, in you than there is.”

Draco allowed himself to look at his professor. “My cousin?”

“You look a lot like him except for the hair,” Severus explained. He looked tired and his shoulders rolled forward so that his dark hair covered more of his face than usual. Draco noticed the lines around his mouth looked deeper. Draco always had the urge to push his professor’s hair away from his face, but it was stronger at that moment than it had ever been. “It became known that he'd been a traitor for some time during the first war. Our lord had an attachment to him.”

“I don’t even know him,” Draco breathed, he felt his heart starting to beat hard against his ribcage. “I’d never, I’m not-“

Severus stood and came over to lay a hand on Draco’s shoulder.

“Control your breathing,” Severus commanded. “In and out. Count your breaths.”

Draco knew this trick and he followed Severus’ voice to calm himself.

“I- sir, could you please, could you please not touch me?” Draco wheezed between breaths. Severus’ touch on his shoulder made him want to explode into a million pieces. Severus removed his hand immediately and took a step away from Draco. “It’s… I just don’t think I can handle…”

“It’s fine, Draco. Focus on your breathing.”

When it was clear that Draco was calm, Severus sat back down.

“I know what he’s done to your abdomen, Draco, but you need to tell me if anything else happened to you,” Severus said. He leaned back in what looked like practiced ease. His calm was a blatant lie. Draco could see it in the rigid way he kept his back straightened and his jaw tight.

“Nothing else,” Draco said and he felt dead as he said it. Severus let a long pause sit between them. 

“Our lord asked me to train you. We should begin next week. You’ll come with me to my home in Spinner’s End.”

If Draco hadn’t felt so tired and sore and hurt, he’d of smiled. “Fine.”

Severus leaned forward then, “No more creating your own potions, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll teach you alternative ways to deal with your pain, Draco.”

Draco wanted to refuse, to deny that there were any real ways to deal with his pain. That the best he could do was numb it. But there was no energy left in him. “Yes, sir.”

Severus had a habit of studying him sometimes. Draco usually tried to pretend he didn’t notice. When his professor stared at him with his dark eyes and a frown pulling his mouth down, Draco didn’t look away. He gazed back and when he did, he felt something in his heart twist.

“So you’re a Death Eater then?” Draco asked and he tried his best not to sound disappointed.

“I’ve made my choices in life,” Severus replied, sighing. He stood and walked towards Draco’s door. Draco almost asked him to stop and stay with him, but he didn’t. “Ms. Parkinson will be here to see you shortly.”

“Sir, wait,” Draco started, “Does my mother know?”

Severus didn’t turn around to look at him. He kept walking out the door. “Yes.”

Draco swallowed as the door shut. His mother knew and there wasn’t anything to be done. She wasn’t there when he woke up which meant it wasn’t on her list of priorities. The thought made him feel very alone.

Draco had a house elf bring him a book from the library, but it barely distracted him. He caught himself staring at his cabinet a few times, book abandoned. He couldn’t focus. It felt like hours since Severus had left when Pansy knocked on his door, but it had only been a few minutes.

“Hi,” Pansy said as she walked into his room. Draco could have cried in joy at the sight of her.

“Hello,” he greeted her and scooted to the edge of his bed so that she could sit next to him. “I suppose I have you to thank for saving my life.”

Pansy bit her lip. “I think so, yeah. Figured out how you’re going to make it up to me?”

“I thought not dying was enough?” Draco smiled. It felt morbid to be doing so, but he couldn’t help it. He may of lost Blaise, but he had Pansy with him.

Pansy took one of his hands in hers. Draco noticed her nails were still painted red from the night before and he had a small flash of seeing his blood staining her legs.

“Draco,” Pansy leaned forward, her hair in curls around her shoulders. “Who did that to you?”

Draco’s smile slipped from his face. He pressed a hand down on his bandages to let the small spike of pain from the healing wounds remind him what happened. Pansy sat still, willing to play the waiting game with him. He considered telling her. He considered asking her to run away with him and hide. He didn’t. Instead, he leaned forward to meet her, closing his eyes and pressing his lips against hers. 

She didn’t move away, but didn’t reciprocate the kiss. He pulled away and found her eyes open.

“Sorry,” Draco apologized. “That was uncalled for.”

“We need to talk about a few things,” Pansy stood up and Draco watched as she walked to his bookshelf and pretended to look at the titles there. “I’m not sure what happened last night, but my father said I was to stay away from you.”

Draco felt the deja vu from Blaise’s visit and his stomach twisted. “Are the Parkinson’s neutral as well then?”

Pansy turned to him, “What? No. We’re in this. The Ministry sent some idiot mudblood Auror’s to my mother’s house during the first war. They were doing one of their pointless raids for pureblood artifacts and killed her brother. They filed his death as an accident. Father says she’s never been quite right since.”

“Then why, Pansy?” Draco tried to keep his voice even, but the hurt lingered right under his skin.

“I really don’t know,” she said, stepping forward to stand by his bedside. “They told me last night after we got home from the party. I didn’t tell them what had happened, I promise. Professor Snape made me swear not to.”

She really did look upset, her hands clasped together in front of her. Draco knew it was something she only did when she had to keep from fidgeting when she was upset. Draco nodded.

“I bet that’s what was going on with Vince and Greg then. They barely acknowledged my presence. They must of got the message early.”

Pansy sat next to him again. She didn’t take his hand this time. “Tell me what’s going on please. I want to make sure you’re going to be okay.”

“I’m fine, Pansy,” Draco reassured her. “There was a misunderstanding last night that I happened to be on the wrong end of. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Well, I guess this is bye for now,” Pansy said. She gripped her fingers tightly together as if to keep herself from reaching out to him. “There’s always Hogwarts in September.”

“Of course, Pansy,” Draco said. He loved Pansy. They’d been friends for years and then when hormones became a thing, they’d fooled around together. He’s not sure he’d be as strong as Pansy had been when she’d found him bleeding out if their situations reversed.

Pansy leaned forward and hugged him, burying her face in his neck. “Don’t get yourself killed, you idiot.”

“I won’t,” Draco promised. He tried to mean it as he had with Severus. He just wasn’t quite up to meeting anyone’s expectations of him that day.


	6. Chapter 6

Draco had to squeeze his fingers into fists to stop them from shaking. He wasn’t nervous. Well, his hands weren’t shaking because of nerves. It was from the effects of functioning completely without his potions for a week. He’d hid in his rooms the entire time before he was to go to Spinner’s End. He’d tried his best to stay away from his potions cabinet, but it was the very same day that he’d promised Severus he wouldn’t take anymore potions that he’d tried to open his cabinet again. The sting was worse than the first time. A letter delivered right afterward with Severus’ curling cursive warning him to not attempt it again.

He’d been miserable. But he hadn’t tried again. 

His mother hadn’t come to check on him and he hadn’t bothered to seek her out. He assumed she was fine. Or that someone would tell him otherwise. He hadn’t seen Voldemort since he’d stuck him to the ceiling and carved him like a turkey. In his spare time, he’d been ordering house elves to raid the library and bring him back anything on Regulus Black. They found nothing for him. He was tempted to go himself to look, but the pain of his wounds were too recent for him to try that.

Out of sight, out of mind. He hoped.

Except the time to go to Spinner’s End came fast and Voldemort had requested via a letter that he see Draco off. He brought one of his fists up and knocked twice on the study door.

“Enter,” Voldemort’s voice echoed from behind the wood. Draco inhaled through his mouth. He really wanted a numbing potion. He stepped inside the office. Voldemort sat behind his father’s mahogany desk, a quill in his hand. Draco did not look toward the fireplace and the rug that he'd bled on. The Dark Lord paused his writing and looked up at Draco. 

“Oh, yes,” Voldemort’s chair squeaked as he pushed it back to stand. Draco was struck at how normal he looked. A handsome guy with only one glaring abnormality. Red eyes pierced Draco. He felt his knees weaken at the gaze and he knelt on one bended knee, his eyes lowered to the ground. “You’re good at subservience, Draco.”

“My lord,” Draco acknowledged. He took pride that his voice didn’t shake.

“Stand up,” Voldemort demanded. Draco stood and found himself facing Voldemort with only a foot of distance between them. Voldemort smiled at him, a menacing smile that reminded Draco of when the man looked more like a monster, and took a step forward. He reached a hand toward Draco’s stomach and pressed against the wound that would of been there if Severus hadn’t provided salve to heal it over. Draco flinched even though it didn't hurt. “How’s the artwork holding up?”

Draco wasn’t sure what to say. His throat sealed up. He was going to choke. Voldemort pressed harder, moving closer toward him. He kept his hand firmly in place as he circled to stand behind Draco.

“Take a look at what we’ve created,” Voldemort whispered into his ear. He thought that the Dark Lord was going to lift his shirt and find his wound healed. He thought Voldemort would see fit to carve into him again. Instead, Voldemort took his free hand and gripped Draco's chin. He guided Draco’s gaze to the rug that laid in front of the fireplace. A bright red stained the carpet in the exact shape of the Dark Mark that was on his stomach. “I placed a preservation spell on it. I prefer the brightness of fresh blood. Beautiful, don’t you think?”

Draco nodded slightly. He felt frozen and yet he could feel the shaking of his hands traveling up his arms and into his body.

Voldemort released him. “Yes, well, I suppose Severus is waiting for you. Although, Draco, I’m very much looking forward to our next time together.”

Draco nodded again. He couldn’t take his eyes off the rug in front of him as he walked forward. He was careful to not step on the bloody stains. His fingers went on auto pilot to where his father kept the floo powder and he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to make his voice work to get to Spinner’s End. 

It must of worked because when Draco landed, he fell out of the fireplace gasping for breath. His knees banged on the stone floor and he yelped at the pain, almost choking himself by his own desperate gasps.

“Draco,” Severus was beside him. His hand rested on Draco’s back. Draco jerked away from the touch and ended up knocking his elbow into the brick of the fireplace. Draco couldn’t see anything, his vision blurred from tears that gathered in his eyes.

“Ugh,” Draco wheezed, “I can’t breathe. I can’t, I can’t breathe.”

“I’m right here. Slow down, count your breaths.”

The slow steadying of Severus’ voice had Draco trying to slow down his breathing, but it wasn’t working. His heart pounded in his ears.

“I need a numbing potion,” Draco gasped. “Please.”

“No, you don’t,” Severus’ voice had lost its steady soothingness. “I will count and you will breathe with me.”

He began a slow four count. Draco squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out everything but the will to slow his breath down. After awhile, his shoulders relaxed and his breathing slowed.

“Gather yourself, Mr. Malfoy,” Severus said as he stood from his kneeling position next to Draco. “We’re to have lunch and then we’ll talk about your responsibilities here.”

Draco felt a burning embarrassment fill him. That was the second time he’d lost his shit in front of his Professor. He got to his feet and patted himself down.

“Bathroom is down the hall to your right,” Severus directed without Draco having to ask. He didn’t look at his professor as he made his way to the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and let out a sigh of relief. Looking in the mirror, he winced at his red splotchy complexion and blue marks under his eyes. His cheeks were hollower than they had been since the last time he’d looked in a mirror.

Draco turned cold water on and cupped his palms to capture the liquid. He splashed the water across his face, helping clear his head and the flush across his cheeks. There was nothing he could do about the rest of it. He turned the water off and wiped the droplets off with the back of his sleeve. He stood still for a while breathing in and out. He started to get tired of looking at his face, pathetic eyes staring back at him, and walked out of the bathroom.

Draco found Severus at his dining table with a sandwich sitting in front of a vacant seat.

“I’m not hungry,” Draco said, sitting down at the opposite side of the sandwich. Severus didn’t look up from his writing. He kept working as he used his opposite hand to scoot the sandwich in front of Draco.

“Eat. This is nonnegotiable,” Severus said. Draco swallowed. He picked up his sandwich and took a bite. It tasted like sawdust. Severus sat his quill down and gave him his full attention. Draco wished he’d go back to working. “If you’re to make this work, and by that I mean survive, you are to eat when I tell you to.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, but took another bite out of the sandwich.

“I do not have time for you to play the starving victim. You need to be strong and healthy and not faint on me in a time of crisis. And let me be clear, times of crisis will be the norm soon enough.”

Severus dropped his attention back to his letter. Draco took another bite out of his sandwich. He watched Severus write in swooping cursive, the black ink staining the pages and the bare tips of his professor’s fingers. Swallowing grew difficult and Draco had to drown the last of his food down his throat with his glass of water. He choked a little as it went down.

“Are you working on a potions project?” Draco asked. Severus sighed and laid his quill down.

“I’m taking down notes from an experiment of mine that’s recently been a… success of sorts,” Severus replied.

“From what I can see of your recipe at the top here, it looks like a potion with transfiguration properties. A deviant of the polyjuice, perhaps?” Draco guessed as he leaned forward to inspect the document more closely.

“Of a sort,” Severus agreed. He cast a quick drying charm on the ink and charmed them to fly down the hallway. “I’ve restored the Dark Lord to his original body by using a sample of nonmutated cells from an old toothbrush of his during his time at Hogwarts. I'm documenting its successful aftermath.”

Draco felt frozen. He was stuck between practically begging Severus how he’d done it, to have him walk him through the process, and having flashback of the snake like monster holding him by his hair, breathing across his skin. Severus watched Draco, and he felt pinned down by the stare. It was like he was waiting for Draco’s reaction before moving on.

“Tell me about Regulus Black,” Draco changed the subject, his heart starting to race. “I need you to tell me what he did and what I need to do to make the Dark Lord not see me as him.”

Severus tilted his head at him. “Regulus Black was my friend. We joined as Death Eaters together. You look like him and you have the same nature as him, defensive and easy to hurt. Regulus was always tormented by his brother. It left a wound of sorts. The Dark Lord liked that vulnerability in him. He exploited it and somehow Regulus became his favorite. It was a surprise to us all when the Dark Lord put a kill order out on him.”

“You’re saying I’m vulnerable,” Draco said, not really surprised to hear this. He'd been called weak and worthless by his mother for years now. It made sense to him.

“I’m saying that you don’t hide the cracks in your armor as well as you think you do,” Severus answered. “But that’s why you’re here. I am to train you to be an asset. I’ll train you not to die. And how to manage your anxiety.”

“Manage my anxiety,” Draco repeated. He felt numb and exposed.

“We’ll start out with the basics of Occlumency,” Severus began. “It’s a process of protecting your mind from Legilimens who will be able to read your thoughts. The Dark Lord is one and Headmaster Dumbledore is another. I’ve also found that the same techniques that create a successful Occlumens also helps manage stressors like anxiety.”

“We’re starting out with that?” Draco asked.

“You’ll train with strength and speed exercise routines. When you reach an acceptable level physically, we’ll begin your battle magic training.”

“That sounds like you’re turning me into a soldier.”

Severus nodded. “It’s going to be war, Draco. I’m going to turn you into a survivor.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Again,” Severus had his wrist in a a punishing grip. “If I can get this close then so can your enemies. They won’t stop, they’ll fight to kill.”

Draco shook his wrist as Severus stepped back and into an offensive stance. They’d been at this for only an hour, but sweat was already starting to dampen his forehead.

“I need a break,” he rubbed his wrist against his thigh, trying to lessen the ache. He was pointedly not looking at Severus, but even still, he could feel the disappointed scowl bore into him.

“Fine,” he acquiesced. “I am seeing improvements, Draco, but you’ll need to be faster than your opponents and that means muscle memory.”

“Yes, sir,” Draco nodded. “I just need a minute. Thank you, sir.”

He walked through the tiny house on Spinners End to get to the bathroom. They'd pushed the furniture to the sides to allow for training. Severus had thrown a lamp at him just yesterday and he’d still have the mark on his forehead if Severus hadn’t rubbed a stinging poultice on it that’d healed it right up. He was hoping he’d have the time to get Severus to teach him how to make it. That was if Severus would ever allow him near potions brewing again. He’d been sober for a month and Severus still didn’t trust him around his lab. 

Draco kicked the bathroom door closed, locking it behind him with a spell for extra protection. He wouldn’t put it past Severus to attack him while he was in there. He ran cold water over his hands and let it ground him. He splashed it over his face and wet his growing hair. It was shaggy around his ears from lack of a good hair cut. He wished he’d learned a trim spell from Pansy when he’d had the chance, but he didn’t realize how much he’d need it. He slicked it back behind his ears knowing it would curl into devil horns around his face in no time.

He stood in front of the bathroom door. He didn’t want to continue. He wanted to hide. He swallowed, pushing down the lump in his throat to grow with the big one in his chest and unlocked the door. He stepped out of the bathroom and cast a shield. A dark curse hit it within seconds.

Draco stepped forward in a defensive stance. He couldn’t give up. There was too much on the line for him to give up now. They’d been training for weeks. It’d taken Draco a full week to get used to Occlumency. He was still practicing, but the act of clearing his mind and compartmentalizing his thoughts helped him. He was sleeping better and eating wasn’t a chore anymore. When he felt the crawling anxiousness under his skin, he would use it to fuel his workouts.

Severus shot an unidentifiable curse at him and Draco’s shield wavered. He dodged out of the way and shot an immobilizing curse back at him. Severus dismissed the spell as easily as swatting a fly away and lunged forward. Draco jumped back and in doing so, knocked his knee on an end table. He held in his yelp of surprised pain and cast a stinging hex. Severus blocked it and when he came forward again, the punch to the gut wasn’t a surprise and Draco flexed his muscles to take the hit the way Severus taught him. His old wound was completely gone and only phantom aches remained.

“You lack ruthlessness,” Severus commented, putting his hands on his shoulders as Draco’s weight tilted backwards. “You’ll never win unless you want it.”

Severus began to pull away and Draco gripped his wrist.

“I want in on the Azkaban raid,” he said, his voice steady. Severus’ face clouded over and Draco could of kicked himself. “Sir, I’m ready. Let me help save my father.”

“It’s too risky,” Severus stepped away from him. “You’re mother would never forgive me.”

“My mother hardly cares. As long as I’m not embarrassing her, she couldn’t be bothered,” Draco spat. He stalked forward to stand in front of Severus. “I can hold may own. I’ll want it. I’ll be ruthless.”

Severus had the habit of tilting his chin down to let his hair fall forward to hide his face in shadows when he was conflicted. Draco reached a hand out again to rest on his professors arm. He’d not been so forward as he had been in last few minutes with touching Severus. The feel of Severus’ bicep under his fingertips made a shiver run down his spine.

“Perhaps that’s what I’m afraid of,” Severus said and it was so quiet that if Draco hadn’t been so close, he’d of missed it. “You’ll come with us on the mission, but Draco, you’ll need to prepare yourself for seeing and doing things you may not be able to forgive yourself for.”

“Fine, that’s fine,” Draco’s voice came out strangled. “I’ll do anything to save him.”

“You’ll come with me on a mission tonight to gauge whether you’re actually ready for this,” Severus said, moving past him again. “I must leave to make the preparations.”

Draco released a breath as Severus turned from him and Disapparated. Not knowing what to do, he began to reorient the room by levitating furniture to their rightful spots. Severus didn’t come back until it was dark. Draco was sitting cross legged and shirtless in front of the fireplace practicing his Occlumency. He jumped when Severus Apparated into the living room behind him, his new reflexes making him grip his wand and aim it at the intruder. As he lowered his wand, Severus stared at him with dark eyes and an unreadable expression. Draco could of swore he saw Severus’ gaze flick down to look at his bare chest. He held out a black robe and Death Eater mask to him.

“We’re leaving in an hour. Our mission is to gather intelligence,” Severus said as Draco accepted the items from him.

“Okay,” Draco replied. He’d spent the day gathering himself for this. He’d spent weeks with Severus preparing for this. He could do this. Draco went to his bedroom to change. His mind was clear from Occlumency and he bounced a little on his toes to get his body moving.

When he walked out, Severus had his robe and mask on. It made Draco pause. The Death Eater garb on his professor, his mentor, startled him. He pulled the mask over his face and at once felt smothered.

“Remember to breathe, Draco,” Severus said, placing a gloved hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Remember that people don’t die because they can’t swim. They die because they panic. Don’t let fear overcome you.”

“I won’t,” Draco promised. “I’m ready.”

Draco’s insides squeezed together as Severus Apparated them away. When they landed, grass was under his feet and he could see the stars in the night sky twinkling at him. A shack sat tucked under a rolling hill.

“Stay silent, follow my orders,” Severus directed. “No matter what I ask of you.”

“Yes, sir,” Draco agreed, swallowing down his apprehensiveness. They reached the door, Draco a half step behind Severus. Draco wondered what kind of hermit lived in a place like this with no road in the middle of nowhere. He noticed a light flickering through an exposed window and then Severus was barging in through the door, his wand out and casting charms that had ropes snaking out the tip as he strode forward. The interior of the house was small with only one door that stood open to reveal a bathroom.

“Sloppy, Bill, to not put up any wards,” Severus pointed his wand at a pudgy, balding man with no chin to speak of. Rope tied him down to the stark wooden dining chair he’d been sitting on when Severus walked in. Papers were scattered across the tiny table and ink smudged across his fat fingers and hands.

“I knew you’d come,” he wheezed when he spoke. “I knew it’d only be a matter of time when I heard the rumors about his return.”

“Then you know what we’re here for,” Severus said, taking a step closer. He moved the man with magic away from the table so that he could circle around him. The man’s watery blue eyes followed Severus around the room only to flit back to Draco when Severus was behind him. 

“I’m not going to give it to you, you filthy Death Eater,” he spat on the floor and the yellowed phlegm landed inches from Severus’ shoe as he prowled to stand in front of him.

“You’ll die,” Severus explained. “Just give me the key to Azkaban’s wards and you can continue to live this sad, pathetic life.”

“I’m already dead,” the man chuckled. “I’ve got two months, give or take before the cancer takes me. I’ve made my peace.”

Severus stepped back and lowered his his wand. “Perhaps. But you can still feel pain.”

“You can imperious him,” Draco whispered. He realized immediately that he’d messed up. He wasn’t supposed to say anything. Severus ignored him, but Draco could tell by the way he stiffened his shoulders that he was upset.

“Your partner a bit soft around the edges there?” Bill let out another chortle. “Not really sure what he’d got himself in to, has he?”

Severus stalked forward till he was standing over the man. The light from the lamp glanced over the mask making it glow ghoulishly. “I could imperious you. But I’ll let him make you scream for a bit first.”

He motioned Draco forward. Draco felt his stomach drop. This was the thing Severus talked about not being able to forgive himself for. There was a tense moment where his stomach rebelled. He knew Severus was waiting for him to hurt this man.

“He can’t do it,” the man wheezed like he was on the verge of laughter. Draco was sure he was going to be sick. He did his best to ignore the feeling and slipped into the quiet place in his mind, a place where he couldn’t feel his body. It was like watching a stranger raise his wand.

“Crucio,” Draco cast the spell deftly. He hadn’t realized how silent the remote area had been until screams filled up the house, crashing his eardrums. He watched as the man twitched and spasmed against his bonds. A blotch of liquid soiled the front of the man’s pants. The stench of urine attacked Draco’s nose and he almost faltered with the spell to cover his nose.

Severus raised a hand to signal him to quit. Draco lowered his wand and was surprised to find his hand steady.

“Now, Bill,” Severus brought his wand up to poke at the loose skin of Bill’s neck where sweat dripped down and soaked into his shirt collar. “Are you ready to talk?”

“Make him be the one to kill me and I’ll tell you whatever you want,” Bill mumbled. He looked tired, his face which had once shown a spark of fight, drooped. Draco tensed all his muscles.

“He’ll end your suffering,” Severus didn’t even glance at him. “Now, the key to Azkaban’s wards.”

“It’s hidden in the bottom of the coffee grounds container, the last cabinet on the right in the kitchen,” he said, his eyes closed. “It was good while it lasted, torturing you scumbags.”

Severus moved to the kitchen. After a few moments, he walked back and bent to Bill’s eye level. His wand poked against the middle of Bill’s chest.

“If this doesn’t work,” Severus whispered, “I’ll go after your daughter next.”

Draco watched as Severus cast the killing curse before the man could fully register what had been said, green flashing across his vision. Draco’s entire body flooded with simultaneous relief and horror. He didn’t have to kill him. He was sure Severus was going to ask him to do it to prove himself. Severus straightened.

“He was the grounds keeper of Azkaban, Draco,” Severus said, his voice softer than Draco’d ever heard it before. “He’d torture the prisoners there. Some of the stories I’ve heard are truly horrific. He’s no great loss to this world.”

Draco was glad that the mask hid his face and he had to swallow before he could respond. “I trust you, Severus.”

“Right, let’s get out of here,” Severus moved to grasp his arm, but before his fingers closed around his wrist for apparation, a blast rocked the tiny house, forcing Draco to step back to keep his balance.

“Aurors,” Severus hissed. “If we try to Apparate now we’ll splinch ourselves on wards. We’re going to have to fight our way out.”

“I’ve got your back,” Draco said. He could do this. He steadied his breath as he stood behind Severus. Severus blasted the door open and Draco cast a shield charm in time to save them from getting hit by spells. Severus rushed out the door, dark curses flying with a speed Draco had yet to witness while in training. It was mesmerizing, the way Severus’ body flowed in graceful fluidity. Draco fell in behind him casting shield spell after shield spell to protect them. There were two Aurors facing them, both adept in offensive and defensive spells. A vibrant spell struck Draco’s shield and it failed. The spell struck Severus across his dominant casting arm. Draco’s training kicked in as his instincts had him throw up another defensive shield instantly. Yet the damage had been done. Severus transferred his wand to his other hand, but his speed was much slower and the Aurors were firing many more spells at them than before.

“Now is the time for you to be ruthless, Draco,” Severus yelled to him. “Stop holding back.”

Adrenaline shot through him. He ended a shield and dodged a curse, slinging a stupefy back. He ran towards them, a stream of dark curses on his lips. He felt fearless with Severus by his side. Severus slashed a curse out that dropped an Auror on the left. The other raised a shield as they gripped their partners arm and disappeared.

“We need to run,” Severus ordered him as he gripped Draco’s elbow and dragged him along. “They’ll be back with others.”

Draco ran. It was minutes before Severus had them stop to check the area for anti Apparating spells. When they were in the clear, Severus took them home.

Spinners End came into focus around them and Draco almost sagged in relief. He went immediately to his room and slammed the door. He jerked the mask and the robe off, trying to feel free from the energy coursing through him.

Draco was hopped up on adrenaline. It coursed through his veins making him pace his room at Severus’ home. He didn’t feel like he could go to bed, not after fighting for their lives. Not after what they did to that man. He needed... well, he wasn’t sure what he needed, but he was sure that Severus would know. When he opened his bedroom door, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected to find.

His expectations had definitely not included a shirtless Severus treating the wound on his arm. He was doing a poor job of a stitching spell and Draco could see why. He was using his less dominant hand to cast, his spell casting arm being effected, and his hand had a small tremor. Draco felt something shift inside him as he watched Severus without his usual armor of thick robes and layers of disdain. He looked vulnerable with his hair pulled away from his face with a tie and his robe discarded. 

“Can I help?” Draco asked. He swallowed nervously when Severus’ inscrutable gaze landed on him. Silence dragged out between them until Severus nodded his head at last.

Draco moved to cast the stitching spell over the wound. It wasn’t a complicated one and it stitched up in no time.

“Thank you, Draco,” Severus acknowledged, standing up so that they stood close together, close enough to breathe in each other’s air. Draco’s heart raced in his chest. His adrenaline hadn’t faded at all in helping heal Severus. It ramped up, coursing through his body.

Draco crashed his lips against Severus’. He hadn’t realized he’d wanted it so badly until his fingers were clutching at the man’s shoulders, strong and bare under his fingertips. It occurred to Draco that this could be a huge mistake when Severus didn’t yield to his touch, but grew as still and as hard as stone. 

When he pulled away, he didn’t even begin to chance looking Severus in the eye. It felt that all his kisses recently were unrequited. “I’m sorry. That was inappropriate.”

“I am not a good man. I am old and I have lived a hard life full of regrets. Do not mislead yourself into thinking I’m someone to have affections for," Severus said.

“I know who you are,” Draco said, attempting bold. It was difficult as embarrassment threatened to paint his face red with a flush. He felt high off surviving his first real fight, though. And he had Severus half naked in front of him with his hands on him. He wanted Severus. He wanted his sinuous muscle against his own. Those skilled fingers on his skin. “I’m not mistaken or misled.”

Severus searched his face and must of found something there for his hand cupped Draco's cheek and then threaded through his ridiculously grown out hair. Draco caught a unintended sound in his throat at the small gesture of affection and swallowed it down.

“Just this once,” Severus’ voice slid over him like a rippling wave. Draco’s eyelids drooped and his chest began to lift in short aborted pants. He nodded his agreement. Yes, he thought, anything you want. The hand in his hair tightened to the right side of painful. Severus ordered, “Agree, out loud.”

“Yes,” Draco agreed. Yes, yes, anything. “Sir.”

Severus jerked Draco’s head back for access and a hot, wet mouth sucked on the ridge of his adam’s apple. He couldn’t stop the involuntary noise that escaped him this time, his hands coming up to hold on to Severus’ hips. He let his hands run up Severus’ abdomen and defined chest, his fingers stroking over soft hair and hard nipples. Severus bit down on Draco’s neck and he whined, his hips canting forward as desire burned hot in his gut. Severus’ hands found the hem of Draco’s shirt as he leaned away to lift the shirt over Draco’s head. Instead of sliding the shirt all the way off, he bunched the fabric around Draco’s wrists and pulled his arms behind him to where they were restricted behind his back.

Draco licked his lips. He felt hot and exposed with Severus staring at him as if calculating what to do to him next. Severus’ hands moved across his body as he claimed Draco’s mouth. One hand slid down his front, the rough callouses of the potion master’s hand making him shiver, and gripped Draco's cock through his bottoms. The pressure had Draco opening his mouth wider, inviting Severus’ tongue in to explore. Severus’ other hand went to Draco’s nipple and pinched.

“Unngh,” Draco moaned around the tongue invading his mouth. He felt claimed and invaded and he wanted more. He pressed his hips forward into Severus’ hand, seeking more pressure. Severus pulled back as his hand stroked him.

“Snap your fingers for me,” Severus demanded and Draco had to blink his eyes a moment to clear his head. Deft fingers moved across his cock as Severus pulled down his bottoms with his other hand. Then skin was on skin and Draco moaned again. Severus pulled his hand away and Draco chased it with his hips.

“Snap your fingers for me,” Severus said again and there was an edge to his voice that commanded Draco's attention.

“Oh-okay,” Draco agreed, his voice coming out unsteady. The distance from Severus made him keenly aware how vulnerable he was being mostly naked with his arousal jutting up against his stomach, his hands restricted behind his back. A flush of embarrassment began to spread across his face as snapped his fingers.

Severus descended back on him again as if he’d never moved away. His hand found Draco’s cock, his rhythm steady enough to make precome drip from the tip.

“Oh,” Draco breathed out, melting into the man in front of him. His head dropped forward to rest on Severus shoulder as he worked his cock. Draco turned his face into Severus’ neck and inhaled his scent. The smell of his plain soap and a hint of sweat made Draco want to lick his skin. He tilted his head up and pressed his lips to the skin behind Severus’ ear. He poked his tongue out and kitten licked it. A low rumble came from Severus’ chest and Draco became acutely aware of the tightness in his balls and his need to come.

“Yes, please, yes,” Draco moaned. Then Severus’ hand was gone and he’d been so close. He whined at the loss. Severus pressed against his shoulders, guiding him down to his knees and Draco realized that, yes, this was exactly what he wanted. He wanted to taste more of Severus, be totally claimed by him. When he was on his knees, he looked up at Severus as he worked his cock out of his pants. His gaze focused on Draco’s mouth. Draco parted his lips and poked his tongue out just a little bit.

“Snap your fingers if you need to stop,” Severus directed. His voice was deep and low and it curled in Draco’s gut. Severus pushed his hips forward, his cock sliding against Draco’s mouth and he opened his lips to accommodate to the thick size. He slid into Draco’s mouth slowly and Draco had to close his eyes to remind himself to relax. Severus’ thumb brushed the corner of Draco’s mouth.

“You look so good like this,” Severus panted as he began to thrust, his cock hitting the back of Draco’s throat. Tears began to trickle out of Draco’s eyes as he thrust harder. He’d never felt so filled and claimed. His jaw ached from the stretch and as Severus got close, he gripped Draco’s hair to keep him in place. “You’re doing so good for me.”

Draco felt something in him slide into place at Severus' words as his cock twitched and precome dribbled across the skin of his stomach. Severus began to groan and pull away, but Draco leaned forward to chasing his cock with his mouth as Severus began to come. It hit the back of his throat and Draco had to pull away coughing, the rest spreading across his lips and chin.

Severus dropped to his knees in front of Draco. He wiped a thumb across Draco’s chin smearing his come. His other hand grasped Draco’s cock and began to jerk him in rough strokes. Draco felt as tight as a bowstring, so close to his edge.

“You’re so good for me,” Severus murmured as he slipped three fingers back into Draco's mouth. Severus' praising words made Draco desperate. His vision went dark as he came in Severus’ hand, tremors shaking his body and loud moans escaping his throat around Severus’ gagging fingers. When it was over, he slumped forward with his head resting low on Severus’ chest. Severus removed the shirt from his wrists and Draco was surprised to notice soreness in his shoulders from where he’d struggled against his restraints.

Severus cast cleaning charms on them both as Draco leaned against him, struggling to recover his breath. He guided Draco’s face up to meet his eyes.

“You did very well for me today,” he said, “You did good, Draco.”

“Thank you,” Draco said, his voice rasping and hoarse from their activities.

A warmth settled into his bones. Severus stood and helped Draco to his feet. He adjusted himself and then helped Draco back into his clothes. Draco felt like he was moving through a bubble.

“Get some sleep, Draco,” Severus said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Okay,” Draco agreed. “I will.”

Draco trudged to his room and fell across his bed. He didn’t even turn back the blankets. His body felt like it weighed a million pounds. His mind wasn’t racing anymore. And he finally slept soundly through the night.


	8. Chapter 8

Draco woke to the sun warming his face through the window. He sat up and stretched, feeling soreness ache in shoulders. After getting ready for the day, he walked to the kitchen hoping to find Severus drinking his coffee and writing in his potions journals. Instead, he found the entire house empty. A gnawing twisted in his stomach. He made himself coffee and picked up the Daily Prophet from the mail slot by the window. As he sat down to read, the front page headline had his throat constricting.

AZKABAN GROUNDSKEEPER FOUND DEAD

A picture of the man from the night before was placed under the headline. He was smiling in the picture, waving at Draco with kindness. He tried to remember what Severus told him. The man was a torturer, a bad man. It didn’t feel true with the image of his wife and daughter standing next to him in the family portrait. He set the paper down on the table with trembling hands. Memories of holding the man under the Cruciatus curse swam through his brain. He could remember the smell of sweat and urine, of how he’d looked at Draco afterwards.

Draco needed air. He paced the kitchen. He needed something to do. He could always train, work his body into exhaustion. He didn't want to. He wanted out from behind the walls that seemed to trap him at Spinners End. 

He went to the floo. He hesitated, thinking about leaving a note, but realized that Severus hadn’t left him one. It made him uneasy to think about Severus' sudden absence. The memory of Draco's mouth around his cock was still vibrant in his mind. He wondered if that's what had ran him off. Draco decided it didn't matter and flooed to Diagon Alley.

When he emerged from the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron, the boisterous crowd that greeted him helped to release a ball of tension in his chest. He sat at the bar and ordered a butterbeer. The liquid tasted too thick and sweet to him since he’d last had it months earlier. He drank half and tipped well before leaving.

It was the first time he’d been out since summer break began. Usually, he’d travel somewhere exatic with Pansy. Or go out for Quidditch games with Blaise scoring the best stadium tickets. He missed meeting up with Vince and Greg for ice cream at Flortescue’s. He felt odd walking the city without his parents or his friends by his side.

Draco considered going to Flortescue's by himself, but dismissed the thought because it was too depressing. He took a sharp left into Flourish and Blotts instead. He needed textbooks for his final year at Hogwarts anyway. The store was relatively empty considering it was still early before the semester began in a few weeks. While picking out his textbooks, Draco found himself in the history of magic aisle.

He turned the corner of the bookshelf and found Granger standing a foot away from him with her nose in a book. Draco could make out the text on the cover that read The History of the Black Family Tree. She reacted to Draco’s presence by taking a step back.

“Oh, excuse me-“ she cut off as she closed the book with a snap and caught Draco’s gaze. “Nevermind.”

Draco scowled. “Granger.”

Her lips thinned. She squinted at him and then turned her heel, walking away. She clutched the book in her hand.

Draco shrugged and walked up to where Granger had stood. He traced the backs of the books with his index finger until he stopped on a copy of the book Granger had been carrying. Pulling it out, he flipped to the index to find Regulus Black. He needed more information on the man if he were going to protect himself. A brief thought skittered through his mind at why Granger would be looking up the Black family. Then he remembered Potter mentioning Sirius Black to him that night on the Astronomy Tower and the ties were clear.

The passage on Regulus Black was short and contained more information about Sirius Black the mass murderer than Regulus. It did tell him that Regulus disappeared right before Voldemort’s downfall and that his body was never recovered. Draco shivered. Perhaps he escaped from Voldemort. Draco doubted that. It was more likely that Voldemort made sure there wasn’t a body to be found after he realized Regulus was a traitor.

Draco snapped the book closed. That was the most information he’d gotten on the guy since Severus had mentioned him. He replaced the book on the shelf and went to pay for his textbooks. Granger had long gone and he sighed with relief. He didn’t have the patience to deal with her.

Shrinking the books, he put them in his pocket and walked back onto the city strip. He made it a few paces before an invisible hand grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him into an alley. Draco struggled, his muscles tensed to put his training into action, but the hand released him. A silver cloak fell to reveal Harry Potter.

“Potter?” He asked incredulously. “What the hell? Why’d you drag me into this filthy alley?”

Potter’s eyes had dark rings under them, a little worse than when Draco had seen him on the astronomy tower. “I had to see you. When Hermione told me that you were in the bookstore, I had to take my chance.”

Draco crossed his arms over his chest. “I realize that a kiss from me is mind-blowing, but Potter, really, quit stalking me and fuck off.”

Potter took a step closer to Draco. “I'm seeing you in my dreams.” Potter reached out as if to touch Draco’s hand, but he only hovered in the air a few inches away. “I saw you being tortured. There was so much blood. I couldn’t tell if it was real or not.”

Draco swallowed. He had been tortured and there had been a lot of blood. “As you can see, I’m perfectly fine. I’m going to walk away now.”

“Please don’t go,” Potter gasped over a strangled sob. His hands clutched at his hair. Draco was a half step away when he stopped. One more step and he’d be free from the confines of the alley. He sighed.

“Have you been drinking again, Potter?” Draco asked tentatively. He shifted from foot to foot. He felt the urgent need to flee the scene while he still could, but also compelled to stay. Potter's drinking problem was getting out of control.

Potter released his hair and looked up at him through glasses smeared with tears. “I can’t sleep. Every time I try, I see these awful images.”

“Give me those,” Draco said and didn’t wait for permission to take Potter’s glasses from his face. Draco performed a cleaning and repair spell, the right ear of the spectacles barely hanging on by one loose screw. “You should take better care of these.”

Potter blinked at him with wet, owlish eyes as he accepted his glasses back from Draco. It was painfully obvious that Potter had been losing sleep. Bruises bloomed under his eyes and his cheeks looked hollowed out.

“Have you been eating or have you decided to stick to a liquid diet?” Draco sneered. He didn’t have any place to criticize Potter, what with the weeks he'd replaced meals with potions, but that had never stopped him from criticizing Potter before.

“Vodka, mostly,” Potter replied, smashing his glasses back across his nose. A desperate laugh escaped him. “Are you being nice to me?”

“Of course not,” Draco snapped. “You’re drunk.”

Potter stepped forward and Draco inhaled through his nose. “Maybe I am. But I swear that I saw you as clear as I’m seeing you now when I was sleeping. Only you were bleeding.”

Potter reached out a hand and placed it against Draco’s stomach. It felt eerily similar to how Voldemort had touched him before he floo'd to Severus'. A chill ran down his spine. How could Potter possibly know what Voldemort did to him? Draco gripped Potter’s wrist and he felt solid and warm under his fingertips.

“You’re delusional,” Draco replied coldly. Potter only pressed his hand firmer against his stomach and leaned forward to rest his forehead against Draco's shoulder. “Potter, what the hell are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he breathed. Draco felt lips against the sensitive skin of his neck, the area of his neck where Severus had shown him exactly how sensitive it coud be only hours before, and he shuddered for a different reason. “I can’t seem to get you off my mind. I know you’re a right git, but I can’t keep seeing you get cut into, night after night.”

Draco released Potter’s wrist and pushed against his shoulders. It was odd how only a few months ago he would have punched him in the face for getting this close to him. Now he actually contemplated standing there for as long as he could with Potter leaning against him. The bustle of the street behind them grew louder and he was sure he could hear Granger’s voice calling out for her friend.

“Look at me, I’m fine,” Draco repeated. Potter stood upright and removed his hand. Draco opened his robe and drew up his button down and undershirt to reveal his abdomen. “See? No blood, no wounds. You’re just crazy. And maybe drinking too much.”

Draco was glad Severus’ poultice had erased the outline of the Dark Mark that Voldemort had engraved on him. It would of scarred otherwise, the dark magic unforgiving on his skin. Draco watched as Potter’s gaze zeroed in on his bare stomach. He watched as the savior bit his lip and a light blush spread across his pale cheeks. At one moment, he just really wanted to suck the lip that Potter was biting on into his own mouth and then the next moment, he was doing it. He'd went forward, sinking his hands in Potter’s hair, the thick locks sliding between his fingers. He pressed his mouth plush against Potter’s.

Potter made a noise before clutching at Draco’s waist inside of his robes. He opened his mouth for Draco and leaned against him as Draco explored his wet heat. He tasted the sharp bite of Vodka on his tongue. Draco heard himself release a small noise of surprise as Potter’s hands found their way under his shirts, touching his skin, skating over his sides with the tips of his fingers.

Draco pulled away gasping. He caught Potter’s eyes behind his frames, but they were glassy with pupils blown wide. He stepped back and felt Potter’s hands fall away from him. He had to turn away before he did something else he was going to regret later. He didn’t have a potion to numb him from his bad decisions anymore.

“Malfoy, wait,” Potter called to him as he walked out of the alleyway. He came to Diagon Alley to get some space and reorient his head. He did not want to make his already complicated situation more so. Granger stood to the right of the alley in front of the bookstore. When he looked behind him, Potter had disappeared.

He wished at that moment he could apparate back to Spinners End. Severus hadn’t keyed him into the wards yet, though. Why had he thought going outside a good idea? He was a criminal on the verge of becoming a Death Eater. People knocked into his shoulders as he barreled down the main thoroughfare of Diagon Alley. He needed to get to a Floo and get out of there.

When Draco made it back to the Leaky Cauldron, he was out of breath and sweating. He could feel eyes on the back of his head as he stepped into the green flames of the Floo. It only took a moment before he was jerked up and spit out in Severus’ living room.

Draco had always been a little sensitive to floo travel. When he landed in the living room, he had to shake his head to get a grasp with what he was seeing. The scene in front of him was a disaster. The house looked as if a tornado had ripped through it. Draco raised his wand.

“Severus,” Draco called. He heard a crashing from Severus’ bedroom. Draco kept his back to the wall as he walked toward the noise. His training had taught him to never let his guard down. He wasn’t going to let anyone take him by surprise. The closer he got he could hear Severus cursing.

The door to his bedroom was cracked and Draco nudged it with his toe to open it a bit more so he could look in. Severus was there, his robes and hair a ragged and dirty mess. He had his wand in hand and he was incinerating his belongings one by one. Draco watched as the man panted through spell after spell in quick succession.

“Severus,” Draco called to him, keeping his voice low. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he didn’t want to scare him. He kept his wand up in case the man shot a wicked fireball at him instead of inanimate objects. “Are you alright?”

Gray light shone through Severus’ bedroom window and it illuminated streaks across Severus’ face. What he’d supposed was mud glinted red. Blood was mixed in with the mess on Severus and lump formed in Draco’s throat. Severus released a lightning bold and then swirled to land his gaze on Draco. Draco felt frozen under his scrutiny, his eyes flashing in anger. Severus stalked forward and Draco wondered if Severus was training him. He thought about sending a spell off to defend himself, but he didn’t have the time to decide when Severus was on him, clutching his wrist and bending his arm so that his wand pointed towards the ceiling.

“You are going to be the death of me, boy,” Severus snarled. He shoved Draco backwards and slammed the door in his face. Draco couldn’t find his breath. He waited outside of the bedroom door before taking a risk and banging a hand on the surface.

“Severus, are you okay?” Draco called through the thin wood. Draco felt the silence grow between them. He was almost ready to turn away when the door flung open to reveal Severus. He came at Draco, his long legs stepping forward into his space in a way that had Draco scrambling backwards.

““I’ve endured three hours under the Dark Lords wand because of his obsession with you,” Severus snarled. He didn’t have his wand raised. Severus spit the word obsession as Draco’s back collided with the hallway wall. He couldn’t escape any further.

“I didn’t…” Draco began, but Severus covered his mouth with a hand, pressing it hard against the bones of his face.

“Shut up,” Severus snarled. “First Regulus Black, now Draco Malfoy. Am I to be doomed by troublesome idiots for the rest of my life?”

Draco twitched at the mention of Regulus Black. Draco didn’t struggle. He waited with Severus’ hand over his mouth as he studied Draco’s face. They were only inches apart and Draco’s mind leaped back to the night before when Severus had put his hands on Draco in a much different way. Something softened in Severus as he looked into Draco’s eyes. Draco could tell in how the lines of his face smoothed a bit and his eyes seemed to grow heavy. His hand slipped away from Draco’s mouth and he turned away from him to press his face into his hands.

“Sir,” Draco drew away from the wall and laid a hand on Severus’ shoulder. He wasn’t sure what to say.

“You’re just like him,” Severus sounded exhausted.

“Regulus Black? What happened to him?” Draco asked carefully. He pulled his hand away as Severus straightened. When he turned around, all Draco could see was his professor. Not the man who’d claimed him the night before or the broken one that’d demolished his house in rage. Severus sighed and cast a cleaning charm on himself. The mud and streaks of blood vanished.

“The Dark Lord was very close to Regulus,” Severus answered. He shouldered past Draco and moved into the kitchen as he talked. Severus went towards his potions storage and unlocked it with his wand. He took out a potion that helped with nerve damage from the Cruciatus Curse. He popped the stopper out and downed the contents. He didn’t look at Draco as he continued. “He loved him in the only way the Dark Lord really knew how. He obsessed with him, took him under his wing, gave him everything Regulus could of asked for. In the end, Regulus got close enough that he knew a way to hurt the Dark Lord. I don’t know how. But he succeeded. I’m not even sure what happened to him. I do know he suffered.”

“I’m not going to betray the Dark Lord,” Draco said. He squeezed his hands into fists. He was getting very tired of this Regulus Black. "The Dark Lord hates me because of what a dead man did."

Severus released a humorless laugh before coming to stand in front of Draco again. He traced one finger across the Draco’s cheekbone and down under his chin to his neck. It tickled and made Draco blink in surprise. “It doesn't matter that you won't betray him. You look just like Regulus. Except for that white Malfoy hair of yours. The Dark Lord may not be able to tolerate you, but he does want to own you.”

Severus pulled away. Draco wished he’d stayed closer to him.

“What happened last night was a mistake,” Severus said, his tone icy with formality. “I am your mentor and your professor. It will not happen again. In fact, I’ve taught you everything I can and you should remove yourself back to the manor.”

Draco swallowed. The words felt like they were cutting a piece of him out.

“I thought that-” Draco began. Severus came close to him, his face twisted in disgust.

"You stupid child," he hissed. "You don't think. Get out of my house before you make things worse."

At that, Severus stalked back into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Draco was glad that Severus had left him to feel the hot spiral of embarrassment and resentment from the rejection alone.


	9. Chapter 9

Draco hadn’t realized how safe he’d felt at Spinners End until he was standing in front of the Floo to go back to the Manor. He’d found a safe haven in his tiny bedroom. He'd wake to Severus drinking his coffee in the morning and then work his body and mind to the point of exhaustion with training every evening. He wasn’t foolish enough to deny that he was afraid. He was afraid of Voldemort, of course. And on another level, he was concerned about how much he wanted his potions. At that moment, the need for them gnawed in his chest making his heart race.

“Draco,” Severus was behind him. He’d stayed hidden in his bedroom as Draco gathered his belongings. Draco didn’t turn to face him. He kept staring at the Floo as if it would change his outcome. “When you go home, you must be ruthless. Do not let anyone, I mean anyone, see you weak. Use your Occlumency.”

Draco almost laughed. It felt absurd. He was nothing but weakness. He stepped into the Floo. It felt like ripping off a bandaid by leaving Severus behind. He appeared in his mother’s study this time, having sent an owl to her to open a path for him. She’d done it and that surprised him. He couldn’t face going back to what was in his father’s study. He wasn’t sure if Voldemort knew he was coming home, but he was going to try to hide until he could figure out a way to convince the Dark Lord that he wasn’t Regulus Black.

Narcissa sat like a queen ready to be entertained as Draco stepped out of the Floo. She had tea waiting on the end table for them and Draco’s stomach growled for the little finger sandwiches that adorned a crystal platter.

“Son,” Narcissa greeted him. She waved a hand for him to take a seat in the soft cushioned chair across from her. “Have a seat.”

Draco sat, but he didn’t touch the spread before him. He tried his best not to fidget.

“Mother,” he finally said. She stared coolly back at him with her gray eyes -- his eyes, as everyone liked to tell him. He’d inherited his height and the angle of his jaw from his father, but the gray eyes and the bow shape of his lips were all Black family ancestry.

“There’s three weeks left until you go back to school for your final year,” Narcissa said. It struck Draco that he’d not realized how close the term was. “Our lord has decided that since the arrangement with Severus was not suitable for you, he’s decided Fenrir will take his place.”

Draco swallowed. He clasped his hands together.

“Severus has done an adequate job of training me,” Draco said, managing to find his voice. Any time spent with Fenrir would be horrible. The werewolf would use any feeble excuse to sink his teeth into Draco’s flesh. “I can continue my practice as Severus has instructed.”

“That’s unacceptable,” Narcissa said, her voice sharp. “It’s time you learned that our dark lord is possessive of those he has interest in. I believe that you are of great interest to him, Draco, and you will be wise to not have another cock in your mouth for the foreseeable future.”

“Mother,” Draco gasped at her words. He’d pulled back as if slapped.

“It’s time you grew up, Draco,” Narcissa continued. She picked up her teacup and took a tiny sip. “It’s time you ended whoring around. Fenrir is a punishment I suggested and encouraged. You’ve been irresponsible with your body for too long, putting the family reputation at stake like that. Do you understand, Draco?”

Draco nodded, unable to respond. His mother was unleashing a wolf on him as a lesson in abstinence and reputation. A burning shame spread through Draco’s body and he was sure his neck was turning color. 

“It’s a wonder the Dark Lord hadn’t brought you in to hear Severus’ screams last night,” Narcissa said, almost as if in an afterthought to herself.

“He tortured him, didn’t he?” Draco whispered. He was no longer hungry, his stomach turning at the thought. It made sense, Severus’ anger at him.

“Of course he did,” Narcissa said, settling her teacup on the saucer with a clatter. “If Severus hadn’t brought the key back to undo the wards of Azkaban, he’d of killed him. He doesn’t like it when someone touches his things. Let me be clear, Draco. You are his.”

He’d throw up if he’d had anything in his stomach except for a butterbeer hours earlier. And the taste of Harry Potter’s spit in his mouth. His guts twisted. He had been beyond irresponsible with his body. He’d had a death wish.

“I’m not his. I am a Malfoy,” Draco said through clenched teeth. He couldn’t look at his mother and instead gazed at the spot on the wall to her right. He heard the scrape of Narcissa’s chair and the clack of the two steps it took his mother to stand over him. Narcissa wrapped her hand around his throat. She pressed against his windpipe.

“Mother?” he asked, strangled, as she pulled him up by his neck to standing. He could shake her off him, but he didn’t. He let her dig her sharp nails into his skin and he bit at his lip to keep from making a sound. He looked her in the eyes with fine lines decorating the sides and allowed her to choke him. He noticed for the first time the dark smudges that decorated the curves of her eyes.

“I have been able to raise this family out of the ashes once,” Narcissa hissed, her face only inches away from Draco’s. “I will not have you burning it to the ground.”

Draco’s eyes began to water as it became impossible to draw air to his lungs. He thought she might kill him when her fingers loosened around his neck as she lost her strength and momentum. It was a curious thing to watch the anger drain out of her.

“You’re his, Draco,” she murmured, caressing her fingers over the skin of his throat. She held the back of her hand against his cheek as he gasped air. “I don’t know what you’ve done to get his attention, but you have it.”

He touched his throat and found it tender under his fingers. Narcissa turned away from him.

“Your first session with Fenrir is tomorrow morning,” Narcissa informed him as she stepped away. “Get out of my sight.”

Draco turned on his heel and walked out of his mother’s study. His chest felt heavier than it had when he’d left for Spinner’s End and yet he felt more reckless than he’d ever been before. Severus’ words repeated through his mind. Be ruthless. Never let them see weakness.

He was walking towards his bedroom, the halls of the manor mercifully quiet when he stopped. He took a moment to tuck memories and emotions away with his Occlumency before turning toward Voldemort’s office. He didn’t think at all as he strode forward. He gave himself no time to doubt when he raised his fist to the door and knocked. He had no reason to believe that Voldemort would be in there, but he had to try.

The door swung open. Draco stepped through the threshold and found Voldemort leaning against his desk as if he'd been waiting for him, his red eyes watching him as he closed the door behind him. Draco walked up to him, his heart bursting in his chest, and kneeled.

“My lord, may I have a moment of your time?”

A heavy silence hung over Draco’s head as Voldemort stepped in a circle around his kneeling form.

“Speak,” Voldemort allowed. He sounded bored if not a little amused. Draco stood up, knowing it evoked impertinence, but doing it anyway. He stared in to the red eyes and almost lost his nerve, his breath catching in the back of his throat. Never let them see your weakness.

“I'm Draco Malfoy,” Draco said, his voice steady. “I’m loyal and I’m yours to command. I want to serve you, my lord, no matter the circumstances. My body and my mind is yours.”

Voldemort’s mouth quirked up at the edge and Draco imagined what that smile would look like if the man still looked like a serpent.

“And if that servitude means pain at the end of my wand?” He asked. Draco nodded and kneeled again, bowing his head.

“I am at your mercy, my lord,” Draco affirmed.

“It seems you find yourself at the mercy of many,” Voldemort leaned back against his desk.

“I didn’t understand the extent of my worth to you,” Draco replied carefully. “I’m aware now. I will not make the same choices.”

“Stand up, Draco,” Voldemort ordered, his tone hard and losing all humor. Draco breathed slowly to calm himself. He stood, but he kept his gaze down to watch Voldemort’s smart leather shoes step closer to him. Fingers that were skinny and almost too long pushed his chin up so that he was facing Voldemort. Draco blinked rapidly.

“My lord,” Draco began. He wasn’t sure if he could follow through with his intentions, but he had to. He dropped his voice and tried to make himself sound breathy. It was his best bedroom voice. “May I serve you?”

“As a matter of fact,” Voldemort said, his fingers grazing over his throat, pressing into the marks that were probably left by his mother. He tried hiding his wince, but it happened anyway. Voldemort noticed and the cruel smirk was back. “You may serve me.”

Draco swallowed as Voldemort’s hand trailed down to toy with the collar of his shirt before he stepped away. He watched as Voldemort pulled his wand out from his suit pants and began to twirl it between his fingers. The polished dark wood glistened from the light from the fire. He wanted to run when Voldemort pointed the wand at him, but he didn’t. He stood his ground and grit his teeth. He had an idea where this was going to go.

A cutting curse came at him, but it was so precise that it only sliced the fabric of his shirt so that it fell off his torso in tatters.

“Oh, Severus,” Voldemort admonished, “He must be responsible for getting rid of my handy work.”

Draco closed his eyes to steady himself and he jumped when an invisible force put pressure on his shoulders, drawing him down to his knees. Show no weakness, he reminded himself. He knew it was going to hurt, but he’d be alive at the end of it. He survived the last time, he’d survive this time.

A sharp pain began on his chest and Draco was sure this time Voldemort wasn’t cutting as deep. He’d live. He would be fine. He started screaming as the cutting traveled down to the sensitive parts of his stomach.

“Open your eyes, Draco Malfoy,” Voldemort said and he sounded out of breath. Draco blinked his watering eyes open as he panted. Voldemort looked flushed. He was closer than Draco realized, standing a few inches from him. He darted a glance down and watched as blood slipped out of his wounds and ran across his skin. He thought for a second he might throw up before Voldemort began again and then all he could do was scream.


	10. Chapter 10

Draco side stepped out of the way of a curse. The stone fence behind him exploded and rock pelted his back. He’d be bruised by it, but he’d still be walking. He kept his gaze on Greyback. The werewolf stalked the area in front of him, his crooked teeth flashing at Draco. If he dropped his guard, he knew Greyback would use those yellowed fangs on him. Draco slashed a curse at him. It zagged red and it was meant to cut into his opponents skin as if it were rags. Instead, it barely scraped him.

“Is the pretty boy tired?” Greyback leered. He lurched forward, his ratted robes swirling behind him. Draco leaped backward, almost stumbling over the rocks from the blast, and sent a succession of repelling and shield curses. Greyback howled in frustration as he bounced back at Draco’s spells.

“Fenrir,” Severus’ voice carried across the training space on the Manor's grounds the Dark Lord had assigned to Greyback for Draco’s training. “If you’re quite done, we have a mission.”

Draco’s heart thudded in his ears. He would have been happy to see Severus alive and well for the first time since leaving Spinners End, but he was too occupied with being grateful at not being eaten alive. He was certain he was about to be wolf food. Draco didn’t dare take his eyes off the wolf, his wand still pointed at him. Greyback growled low in his throat.

“Tomorrow,” he rasped, “We’ll dance again.”

“Yes, sir,” Draco sneered the words. Greyback turned away, walking back towards the Manor and Draco released a tiny sigh. When he lowered his wand, his hand cramped from how tight he’d been clenching it.

“You need to work on your tell when aiming spells,” Severus commented. Draco’s gaze snapped up to catch Severus’ eyes. He stared at Draco before walking away. As he retreated, Severus said, “You’re bleeding through your shirt.”

Draco looked down to see that a blotch of red stained the front of his white button down. His wound must of opened and soaked through the bandages. That explained his lightheadedness. When he looked back up, Severus was gone. He knew now that thinking Severus would have been able to protect him at Spinners End was foolish. When it came to Voldemort, no one could protect him. He’d had to give himself up as a sacrifice freely.

He took the time to repair the stone fence for his mother’s sake. The house elves could have done it, but Draco wanted a few more minutes in the sun without Greyback trying to kill him. The manor was more than suffocating over the days since he’d got home and Voldemort forgave him the crime of being a Black relative by turning him into a pin cushion.

The last stone settled in place when Draco heard footsteps behind him. He sprang into action, zapping a shield in place as he lunged to the side. A high pitch yelping sound made him pause his second string of attacks as he realized it was Pansy coming up behind him. Her wand was out and she stood in a defensive stance.

“Draco, are you trying to kill me?” Pansy asked. Her dark hair fell around her face in loose waves, long enough to frame around her unbuttoned shirt that flirted with almost too much cleavage. He could have cried in happiness to see a familiar face. He lowered his wand and stepped up to her, trying his best to be casual and not appear desperate.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. Pansy lowered her wand and arched a brow at him.

“You’re bleeding,” she snipped. “And you’re going to get a nasty burn from the sun. I can tell by how pink your nose is.”

Draco’s hand went to his nose.

“Come on,” Pansy turned away, expecting him to follow her. “Let me heal you up.”

Draco trailed after her. “It’s a dark curse wound. All the spells I know wouldn’t do anything.”

“Why didn’t you just take a potion?” Pansy asked. Draco felt the uncomfortable pressing in his chest that had nothing to do with his wound. They passed through the Manor doors and Draco was relieved to see the dining room doors were closed tight. The Manor’s guests would busy for a while yet.

“Aren’t you supposed to be staying away from me?” Draco averted her question.

“Yes,” she agreed as they climbed the stairs to get to his floor where his bedroom was. “But it’s been months. I’m sure father has forgotten all about it. Anyway, I’ve heard good things about you through passing. I’m going to assume that you aren’t on the Dark Lord’s shit list anymore.”

He pushed the door open to his rooms and immediately regretted bringing Pansy in to his space. He’d banned house elves from entering after they’d come in on him bleeding on the floor and began aggravating him with cleaning and pestering him about eating. Pansy had access to see the unmade bed and clothes he'd worn to training with Greyback that were dirty from blood and dirt strewn over the floor because he didn’t have the energy to take care of them.

“Okay, wow,” Pansy said. She began casting charms to put the room in order. “Did you give all your elves freedom?”

“It’s been a crazy summer, okay?” Draco mumbled. His head started to feel light and dizzy. He walked to his armchair in the corner of his bedroom and sank into it as Pansy spelled a dirty shirt from its surface into his closet hamper.

“Unbutton your shirt,” Pansy ordered, sitting on his bed in front of him. Draco smirked at her and began to slowly follow direction. “Stop being a jackass. I’ve got a boyfriend now for your information.”

“A boyfriend?” Draco’s brows furrowed, but he finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled it out from behind him. 

“Yes,” Pansy bat her eyelashes at him as she flicked her wand toward his bandages. As the white gauze fell away, she sucked in a breath. “That’s the dark mark.”

“Yes, it is,” Draco affirmed quietly. “I’ve tried every spell I could without seriously messing myself up. It won’t heal right. And I can’t take potions. Not anymore.”

Pansy dragged her eyes up from the splotching dark red black dark mark on his body to meet his gaze. “That's ridiculous. Why not use a potion?”

Draco let the question fall away from him. “So, how’d you meet this new boyfriend of yours?”

Pansy scowled at him before dropping her focus back to his wound. She raised her wand and began to do fancy spell work that Draco didn’t recognize.

“There was a party for the Dark Lord’s followers, kind of like a mixer of sorts,” Pansy began as she worked on him. Her magic tingled across his skin. “It was right when you left to stay with Professor Snape. I met him there. We have a lot in common. His name is Ivan and he’s from Durmstrang.”

Draco winced as her magic pulled at his wound. “That’s great. I’m sure he’s from a great pureblood family.”

“One of the best.”

Draco let his eyes fall closed. He felt happy that the world was still moving on around him. And he also felt bitter. He wanted to move on in that world. That world was supposed to practically revolve around him. It had for so long. Now he was less than nothing and barely hanging on.

“There,” Pansy said and Draco opened his eyes again to find his wound scabbed over. “That should be good enough so that it won’t break open again. You’ll probably scar without a potion you're insisting on not taking.”

Draco shook his head. Scarring was the Dark Lord's the intention. “You’re an amazing witch, Pansy. Ivan better be good to you.”

Pansy tipped her head back and laughed. “As if I’d allow anyone to treat me less than royalty.”

Draco stood on shaking legs and went to retrieve a clean shirt. His closet sat almost empty and he realized that he needed his clothes cleaned soon. He pulled on another white button up and a dark robe on over top of it.

“Draco, I’ve got to go. The meeting will be over soon and my father will be looking for me,” Pansy said, standing by his door, her hand already on the knob. Draco smiled at her. He was sad to see her leave, but it was great to see her at all.

“I get it,” he said. “I’ll see you around. Maybe.”

Pansy tilted her head at him. “Won’t you be on the train for school tomorrow?”

Draco blinked. “Tomorrow?”

“Yes, tomorrow. I’ll see you there, won’t I?”

Draco nodded numbly. Had the three weeks gone by already? “Yes, I’ll… see you there. Tomorrow.”

Pansy squinted her eyes at him before leaving, shutting his door behind her. Draco collapsed face first into his bed. He’d survived the summer and he could finally go back to Hogwarts. One more year of relative freedom from the chaos of the Manor before graduation… then what? He couldn’t imagine it. He wouldn’t imagine it. Taking one day at a time was the only way he was getting by anyway.

Draco rolled to his back and lifted his shirt to let his fingers trace the raised scab on his skin. He had an incriminating dark mark cut into his skin like a beacon. He’d be found out in an instant if anyone saw him shirtless. Maybe that’s why Voldemort did it. The wound felt sensitive under his touch, but the pain had lessened significantly thanks to Pansy. He’d been cleaning and patching it for days with no healing in sight.

A tawny brown owl pecked at Draco’s window. He considered ignoring the bird, but it pecked insistently and Draco finally got up to retrieve the package. A jar was tied to the bird’s leg. Draco recognized it as Severus’ healing balm. If it worked like it had on his last wound, he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone seeing evidence of his allegiances. Severus must of guessed about his wound when he'd seen the blood on his shirt.

It hit him then that he’d go back to school tomorrow and have to treat Severus like Professor Snape. He released a choked hysterical burst of laughter. The idea felt too absurd to be real.


	11. Chapter 11

Draco arrived late to the train. He avoided the gaze of the crowd, keeping his shoulders back and his head held high like his father taught him. He hadn’t taken any potions since Severus helped him stop, but the anxiety that at any moment Voldemort might decide he didn’t need Draco as a spy at Hogwarts, that he’d rather him stay home and keep him nearby for his sadistic entertainment whenever he pleased, choked him. He’d made it though.

The compartments were full and as he walked past each, he found happy smiling faces. He paused at one door where he found Pansy draped on the arm of a blond guy that reminded him of himself. Pansy smiled when she saw him, her lips a dark red against her skin.

“Draco, you’re here,” she said.

“I am,” he agreed. Draco stretched out a hand in greeting to his look-a-like. “And you are?”

“Ivan Romanoff, a transfer from Durmstrang,” his accent was only a little thick. He didn’t move to stand, opting to instead just his hand out like an uncouth, disrespectful mongrel.

“Ah, I see,” Draco said, dropping his hand. He wasn’t going to play power games with this guy. Ivan smirked at him as he lowered his own hand down. A shoulder knocked into him as Nott entered the compartment. He took a seat on in the middle of the bench on the other side, stretching his legs to make sure there was no room for Draco. He looked up at him with a smug expression.

“How was your summer, Draco?” Nott drawled an.

“Exulting, Nott, thank you,” Draco replied. “All except for the parts where you showed your sniveling face.”

“Oh, don’t hurt me,” Nott smiled gleefully, holding a hand over his scrawny chest. Pansy moved to stand up, but Draco waved her back down. He turned around and continued down the row of compartments. He glanced into another one and saw Blaise sitting with Greg and Vince as well as a Hufflepuff he couldn’t stand. His heart longed to sit with Blaise, putting up with with the obvious hanger on, Zachariah was his name? But he couldn’t. Not after how he’d last seen him. Blaise had made it obvious that their friendship was over.

He’d made it to the last compartment and a stirring inside him almost made him turn around, leave the compartment alone. Draco was used to the feel of magic manipulating him and he ignored it. His curiosity was peaked and as he got closer, the compartment door was already closed. When he reached out to pull the door open, his hand shook with the need to go find a different place. He pushed passed the feeling.

He wished he’d just left it alone when he found Potter sitting by the window, a clear bottle of vodka in his lap between his thighs. His head whipped around to look at Draco as he opened the door.

“Merlin, Potter, vodka again?” Draco sighed. Did Potter ever not drink? Potter frowned at him.

“If you’re coming in, then close the door behind you,” he said after a beat, turning his gaze back out the window. Draco thought about leaving, but then remembered this was the last compartment. It surprised him that he’d rather be stuck with Potter than with Nott and Ivan Romanoff. He sat in the seat opposite Potter.

“Where’s the other parts of the golden trio?” Draco asked without malice.

“That’s classified,” Potter barked a humorless laugh. “It’s rather more of a golden duo these days.”

The train began to move and shake around them, starting their final journey to Hogwarts for their Seventh Year. Draco studied Potter. He rested his forehead against the glass, his eyes closed and dark lashes brushing against the the dark circles under his eyes. His cheeks looked hollowed out even with his shoulders a bit broader than usual.

“Not going to jump me this time?” Draco let the words slip out of his mouth. “I’m almost offended.”

Potter raised his head up and blinked at him. “You kissed me in Diagon Alley.”

A dash of heat rose to his cheeks. “Yeah, maybe I did.”

“Do you want me to kiss you, Malfoy?”

Draco didn’t say anything, but his heart raced in his chest like it seemed to always do around Potter lately. Potter stood up, placing himself in front of Draco, staring down at him for a moment before placing one knee on the outside of Draco’s thigh. His other knee came to rest on the other side and then Potter was sitting in his lap, his hands resting lightly on Draco’s shoulders. Draco was pretty sure his lungs stopped working.

Potter leaned forward to rest his head against Draco’s like he had been doing to the window. His nose brushed alongside Draco’s and his breath ghosted across his lips. His hands came up to rest on Potter’s hips. Draco closed his eyes and tried breathing again. Potter’s lips landed on his own in gentle pressure. 

Yes, this. Draco’s brain urged him to go for more. He tightened his fingers on Potter’s hips to remind himself that Potter was real and sitting on him and kissing him. Potter’s hands came up to cup Draco’s neck, his fingers sliding through the hair at the nape of his neck. Draco kissed back just as gently.

Potter must of took it as an invitation because he gripped Draco’s hair, pulling his head back, making him part his mouth in a gasp. He slipped a tongue between Draco’s parted lips. Draco made a noise. He was helpless under Potter’s touch. When Potter pulled away, Draco was dizzy and hot.

“You’re not going to run from me this time are you?” Potter asked. Draco opened his eyes to see Potter looking at him through half crooked glasses and flushed cheeks.

“You always taste like poison,” Draco said, his voice a whisper. Potter squinted at him and it reminded him a little of how Pansy had looked at him in his bedroom. “I like it. The taste of vodka. And I’m not going to run this time. There’s no where for me to go.”

Draco held the front of Potter’s ratty t-shirt and brought him down for another sloppy open mouthed kiss. The slide of Potter’s tongue against his sent shocks down his back. It’d been a while since he’d kissed anyone properly and it felt so good. Potter put his hands in Draco’s too long hair and pulled him closer to him. HIs warmth overwhelmed Draco. Potter’s hands ran down Draco’s shoulders and his fingers found their way under his robe collar, pushing the garment down. He released Draco’s mouth to tilt Draco’s chin up so that he could suck kisses down his neck. 

“Oh,” Draco panted. It was escalating quickly. He felt the pressure in groin and the weight of Potter on him when Potter’s swift Seeker fingers popped the top button of his shirt. An alarm bell began to ring in his head. He snatched Potter’s wrist to stop him from unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. “Wait.”

Potter sat up. HIs lips were red and spit slick from sucking on Draco’s neck. Filthy images popped into Draco’s head and he had to close his eyes while taking a deep breath to retain his wits.

“What’s wrong?” Potter asked.

“I…” Draco started, releasing a long breath. “Want to take this slow.”

“Slow?” He repeated.

“Yes?” Draco said.

“LIke we’re in some kind of relationship?” Potter asked bewildered. He’d completely pulled away from Draco and the air was starting to become cold around him with the absence of Potter’s heat.

“When you put it like that, it does sound ridiculous.”

Potter reached behind him and Draco realized he was going for his wand, but he wasn’t quick enough. A curl of fear snaked in his gut. Potter cast incarcerous on him and rope snaked around his wrists and ankles, binding him to the chair, before he could buck Potter off his lap.

“What the hell?” Draco spat. The curling fear mixed with anger and he remembered why the fuck he didn’t go around kissing Potter.

“You’re hiding something,” Potter stated matter of factly. He then began to unbutton Draco’s shirt.

“Yeah, and you’re drunk,” Draco accused. “Get the hell off me.”

“I’m always drunk,” Potter laughed at him, “It’s fine.”

His fingers popped buttons open in quick succession until they opened to reveal a mark on Draco’s skin. Potter slowed down and his face grew heavy. He ripped the shirt open the rest of the way.

Draco could have cried in relief. His dark mark was only scattered patches of scabs from where the deepest cuts had been made. The majority of the wound healed after he’d put Severus’ salve on it.

Potter scrambled away from him as if he’d actually seen the mark on his skin. Draco had to look twice at his torso to make sure there was no way Potter could know.

“I fucking knew it,” Potter muttered, going over to his vodka and taking long pulls.

“It was a potions experiment gone wrong, Potter,” Draco bluffed. “I was feeling self conscious about it. But now that it’s out in the open, maybe we could pick up where we left off?”

Potter whirled on him, the bottle still in his hand and Draco was sure he was about to hit him with it.

“Voldemort did this to you,” Potter snarled. “I saw it. I could see it happening in my nightmares. All of the fucking nightmares.”

He turned from Draco and took another long drink out of the bottle, upending it into his mouth until it was drained empty. Draco felt shaken and confused. He strained against the ropes that tied him.

“Voldemort died, remember? You defeated him, oh great chosen one,” Draco lied. “Can you please undo the spell? It’s getting uncomfortable here.”

Potter whirled back to him. “No one believes me. No one. It’s all in my head. I couldn’t possibly be seeing what Voldemort’s doing. That’s just crazy, right?”

“I don’t know, Potter,” Draco said, increasingly worried. “Just cut the ropes and we can talk about this.”

Potter looked down at his bound hands and ankles. He swayed a little on his feet. “I think I kind of like you like this.”

Draco felt a shot of heat run through him. Not the time, he told his body.

“Maybe some other time?” Draco offered. Potter picked up his wand from the floor where he’d thrown it in favor of his vodka bottle.

“Finite,” he ended the spell, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He collapsed against the seat next to Draco, letting his head loll to the side so that he gazed at Draco with eyes half closed. “I think I’m going crazy.”

“Aren’t we all a little crazy?” Draco asked, but he could tell Potter wasn’t listening. His eyes slipped all the way closed.

“I keep seeing your face in my nightmares. I see you in pain and there’s nothing I can do. I want to do something, anything to stop it.”

Draco felt his chest tighten with heaviness as Potter’s head slumped down to Draco’s shoulder. He sat very still with Potter passed out on him for a long time until he adjusted them to where Potter’s head rested in his lap. He’d never admit to running his fingers through Potter’s hair, but he did it, fascinated how the strands would twist and curl after he’d pull his fingers through.

When they were close to their destination, Draco had to shake Potter aggressively to get him to wake up. When Potter moved, there was a pool of wetness on his pant leg from Potter’s drool.

“We there yet?” Potter slurred, slumping over to the other side, his head hitting against the wall.

“You’re a messy drunk, Potter,” Draco commented, casting a spell with his wand to dry the drool. Potter slid down the seat to puddle on the floor, his head on his knees.

“I can’t help it,” he whined, “It makes the nightmares go away.”

Draco wanted to ask more, but the train was starting to slow down. Ignoring Potter, he changed his regular black robes into Hogwarts robes with his prefect badge shining on his chest and Slytherin colors lining his tie. It felt better than he thought it would to be back in his uniform. When he was finished, he looked down at where Potter sat watching him.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Draco snapped, uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

“Do you really believe in all that blood purity nonsense?” Potter asked, and as if his neck couldn’t hold his head, he let it fall back against the seat behind him, exposing his Adam’s apple.

Draco’s lips thinned. “I’ll see you at the feast, Potter.”

He kept his eyes straight ahead as he stepped around him and out the door. The question followed him as he stepped off the train surrounded by his peers of all blood statuses. His blood status wasn’t keeping him from getting carved up or making him powerful enough to protect himself from a megalomaniac. If his father could see him now.

But his father was in prison. They’d thrown his father in prison because of his blood status and how powerful he was because of the knowledge and traditions his blood status afforded him. And he needed Draco to save him.

Draco would save him.


	12. Chapter 12

Draco tried not to look for Pansy or Blaise as he picked his carriage to the castle. He ended up with Luna Lovegood who didn’t say much, but watched him with big, glassy eyes. When he sat at the Slytherin table, the others avoided the seats around him. He caught Pansy’s eye and she gave him an apologetic shrug. She was then deftly distracted by Ivan brushing his hand against hers. He searched the professors table for Severus and didn’t find him. Draco fidgeted through the Sorting Ceremony, ready to talk to the potions master alone for the first time in weeks.

As the Headmaster finished the last few words, Draco sprang to his feet and began to make his way down to the dungeons. He knocked on Severus’ office door, not sure if the man would be there or not.

“Enter.”

Draco eased the door open. Severus sat inside, leaning over parchment.

“Professor,” Draco began. Severus’ hand twitched as he wrote and he stopped his work to look at him.

“Mr. Malfoy, what can I do for you?” Severus asked him, his voice as dour and cold as the night.

Draco stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“I needed to speak to you about what happened,” Draco said, coming to stand in front of Severus’ desk. “And also to thank you for the salve.”

Severus’ eyes narrowed. “You needn’t and mustn’t talk about these things here.”

Draco swallowed. He looked back at his mentor, his friend, his something more. A spark of anger flickered in his chest.

“You know what he does to me,” Draco accused, his flicker roaring into a flame as he said the words. His hands clenched into fists. “That’s why you sent the salve.”

Severus leaned back and steepled his fingers. Draco had seen Severus do this evasion tactic on others at dinner parties his father had dragged him to.

“I do.”

“Why do you follow him? How could you follow him?” Draco spat, twisting on his heel and pacing the small space of the office. “He doesn’t care about pureblood traditions, mudbloods and muggles. All he cares about is seeing the world burn at his feet. And he’s going to use me as kindling to start the fire.”

“Sit down, Mr. Malfoy,” Severus ground his teeth over the words. Draco didn’t want to sit down. He wanted to throw all of Severus’ things off his desk, the parchment and ink, a half used bottle of dittany for a potion, and rage against the world. Clenching his fists, he sat.

Severus stared back at him coolly. Draco could spot the muscle in his jaw jumping and knew Severus was trying to keep his calm.

“There’s a lot more to this than you could possibly understand, Draco,” Severus spoke slowly. “If you feel that following the path you’re on is not the right one, then stop being a child and follow a different one.”

Draco blinked. Had Severus implied treason against the Dark Lord? He shook his head. He’d thought about it, a little voice in the back of his head whispering to him that there might be a way out. It was a louder at times, particularly when he’d lay awake in bed bleeding from his time with the Dark Lord and he couldn’t Occlumens through the pain any longer.

“He’s going to free my father from prison,” Draco’s voice came out strangled. He rubbed the palms of his hands against the chair under him. “That’s my only path.”

“As it should be,” Severus replied, and it came out heavy to Draco’s ears. “Leave my office, Mr. Malfoy. There’s no reason for me to see you in here again.”

Draco flinched. “Sir, what happened over the summer-“

“Leave now, Mr. Malfoy,” Severus stood up and glared at him.

Draco took two strides to the door and paused with his hand on the knob. “You’ll tell me when it’s time to free him?”

He didn’t look back at Severus because he was afraid of what he’d see. There was a lingering pause between them.

“I’ll make sure you’re with me when it’s time, Draco,” Severus answered, but it sounded low and defeated. “I promise.”

Draco stepped out of the office feeling like he lost the battle. He was starting to really understand that the Severus at Spinner’s End was lost to him. Even though he’d been terribly alone at the manor, the feeling sank into his skin as he walked to his dormitory. With Severus avoiding him, his fellow Slytherins treating him like he had the plague, everything felt wrong. Surviving the manor to make it to Hogwarts was his entire goal over the summer. Now that he’d made it, it wasn’t any grand prize. It was just another obstacle course he was going to have to figure out how to survive as well.

He didn’t go to the common room. Tension vibrated just under his skin. If he had to confront his housemates in the state he was in, he’d start a fight. He went to the library instead. By the time he reached it, he’d stopped shaking in anger. He slid his wand out of his sleeve to break into the library when he heard singing a corridor down from him.

Draco’s spine straightened as he recognized the voice belonging to Potter. He couldn’t decide what to do. He could continue with his plan to hole up in the library for a while with a book until his housemates were asleep. Or he could go… check in on Potter.

“Say you wanna go start something new,” the voice carried through the hall. Draco turned the corner and found appearing and reappearing shoes. They twisted and slid like they were dancing. “Oooh, baby, baby, it’s a wild world.”

“Potter,” Draco started and the singing paused for a moment before there was a muffled giggle. A disembodied Potter giggled at him. “I know you’re there. The whole castle probably knows you’re there for how loud you are.”

“These are not the droids you’re looking for,” Potter said, his voice projected to a low gravel. His feet disappeared except for a bare sliver of the top of his shoe. “Move along.”

“The fuck, Potter?” Draco stalked forward. The tension in his body ratcheted up as he stuck his hand out to smack the air where the shoe was. A mumbled curse escaped Potter before he fell backwards on his butt. Draco could tell now that it was a silvery invisibility cloak that had hidden him from few.

Draco’s instinct was to kick him, but before his leg could function, he noticed the red swollen quality of Potter’s right eye with a cut freshly scabbed over with a remedial healing spell at the corner. The bruise was already starting to turn an ugly purple.

“The fuck happened to you?” Draco stepped back as Potter found his way to his hands and knees. He was still in the ratty t-shirt and jeans that he’d been in on the train. He doubted that Potter changed into his school robes at all.

“You shoved me, you dickhole,” he grumbled while standing. He shook out the robe and threw it across his shoulders in silvery ripples. Potter patted his pockets before pulling out a flask from his pocket. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and handed it over to Draco. “Want some? It’s bottomless.”

“No, thanks,” Draco thought about smacking the damn thing out of Potter’s hand. “I’m not going to lower myself to your cheap vodka chugging standards. What happened to your face?”

“More for me,” he shrugged and took another swig. The action inexplicably pissed him off. Draco walked up and slapped the container out of his hand. The clank of metal echoed through the hall, clear liquid plashing little puddles with every bounce off the stone. It ended up on it’s side.

Potter stared at his hand before his gaze went to stare at the flask on the floor. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends. Draco waited for Potter to hit him, tackle him to the ground, anything. Instead, he walked a few feet away form him with his hands still in his hair.

“Why is everyone being so fucking difficult today?” Potter muttered. He turned back to Draco, his face alight with anger. He stalked forward. Draco sucked in a breath. This was it. Potter was finally going hit him.

Potter’s grabbed Draco’s shirt and he flung him against the wall of the corridor with surprising force. Draco’s breath rushed out from the impact. 

“We’ve been here before, Potter,” Draco sneered as after regaining air to his lungs, “Are you going hit me or ravish me?”

After the words left his mouth, he realized he’d take either. He wanted something to do with his nervous energy. Really, what was the difference between a fight and a fuck? Potter’s mouth twisted and Draco realized that he was putting in effort to stay angry before a smile stretched across his face. Draco paused at the sight. Be still thine heart, he thought to himself, swallowing down his words. Potter let out that strange giggle he made when he’d been under the invisibility cloak talking nonsense to him.

“I don’t know,” Potter said, releasing his fingers from Draco’s shirt, letting them flatten against his chest. “I’m a little afraid to hit you. I’m not sure I want to see what happens if I make you bleed.”

Draco swallowed. “Make me bleed?”

Potter’s glasses slipped down his nose as he looked at Draco. His smile slid off his face like butter. He pressed in closer to Draco’s body and the proximity made his body tingle. Potter closed his eyes and through the magnification of Potter’s glasses, he could see individual lashes fall against the delicate skin around his eyes. When Potter’s lips hovered over his, he pushed his mouth forward to meet him in a hard press. Draco raised his hands to rest on Potter’s hips. 

Potter pressed forward against him to where his chest and hips aligned. His lips opened in a hot wet slide against Draco’s. His hands slid up Draco’s chest to cup around his neck. A strangled noise fell from his mouth, but Potter devoured it with his own.

When the slight pressure on his throat registered through the thick haze of lust, he fell back from Potter’s lips with a gasp. The fingers Draco had long fantasized about were gradually gaining pressure. Potter was choking him. Draco’s fingers tightened their hold on Potter’s hips. A rush of adrenaline demanded that he fight, but he clamped the reaction down. He let his head tilt back in Potter’s grip. The pressure ached and he slowly lost the ability to breathe.

Draco noticed Potter kept his eyes closed as he squeezed. There was a line that curved down the edge of the right eyebrow. Even then, he want to run his fingers over it, smooth it away. His fingers spasmed in an effort not to claw the hands away from his throat. If this was how he was going to go out, there could be worse ways. Draco’s vision began to swim with dark spots.

As quickly as it had begun, Potter released him from his hold and Draco gasped in air with heaving lungs. The air to his brain made him feel high. Endorphins flooded his body from his adrenaline rush. His knees buckled and he let his eyes close as he began to slide down the wall. Potter gripped his arms in an effort to keep him upright, but eventually he knelt down in between Draco’s knees as he slid all the way down the wall.

“You kinky fucker,” Draco croaked. His eyes leaked loose tears that gathered in his eyes. He gingerly touched the skin of his neck. His throat ached more as the seconds ticked by. He wondered if he was going to have permanent damage to his esophagus at the rate he was getting choked out lately.

“I’m so sorry,” Potter slurred. He sounded so alarmed that Draco cracked open an eye. Potter’s hand tugged at his hair while the other hovered over Draco, wanting to touch his skin, but not daring to.

“You can touch me, Potter,” Draco sighed. “I’ve been expecting that for a while now.”

He circled Potter’s wrist with his fingers and brought his hand to rest against his cheek. 

“I can’t believe I did that,” Potter sounded wrecked, nothing like the singing and dancing guy he’d caught a few minutes ago.

“We fight each other for fun, Potter,” Draco scoffed. “I can’t believe one of us hadn’t tried something homicidal till now.”

Potter’s gaze stayed lowered at Draco’s neck. He was probably bruising already thanks to his stupid pale skin. Draco couldn’t bare to be looked at the way Potter was looking at him so he leaned forward and captured Potter’s lips with his own.

“Mmph,” Potter mumbled against his lips. Draco didn’t waste time making the kiss deeper. He licked into Potter’s mouth, exploring his wet heat. He tasted sweet like he’d ate pie at dinner coupled with the sharp bite of vodka. The flavor tasted addictive.

Potter’s fingers twisted in his hair. He never let anyone put their hands in his hair, but when Potter did it, he almost purred. Draco hands fall down to Potter’s ass and squeezed. Potter jerked back with a surprised yelp. Draco lifted him up and closer. He readjusted himself to straddle Draco’s thighs. The weight on Draco’s lap made him moan low in his throat. Potter rested his hands against his shoulders as he rocked forward to press his hips against Draco’s. Draco chased the pressure.

“Fuck, this is not how I saw my night going,” Potter breathed, his head tilted back and his glasses crooked and only barely hanging on the edge of his nose. The blue black of Potter’s right eye looked uglier up close, his eye swollen shut and puffy. Draco cupped Potter’s cheek, the edges of his thumb swiping just under the the swelling.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Draco whispered. His breath stuttered in his chest. Potter nuzzled into his hand and his heart squeezed. Potter straightened, opening his left eye, his right eye only twitching, to stare at him. Potter rolled his hips forward.

“I’m not sure you know how this works, Malfoy,” Potter laughed a low sound that was totally different from his drunk giggle. He leaned his mouth down and bit Draco’s lip. He gasped and Potter’s tongue chased inside. Draco let himself be kissed, Potter’s lips lighting a fire through his body. Potter’s lips latched onto his neck.

“I just want to know who gets the pleasure of punching the golden boy,” Draco said, tilting his head back to give Potter more room to lick and suck at his skin. “Especially since it wasn’t me.”

Potter sighed hotly against the spit slick of Draco’s neck before sitting up. He untangled himself from Draco’s body and the coolness that rushed against him made Draco shiver. Potter walked to his flask and picked it up.

“Ron punched me,” Harry laughed when he said it. He whirled around to face Draco, the flask high in the air. “He punched me right after he called me a loser and a alcoholic.”

Draco got his legs under him. “Uh huh, well, why are you a walking distillery these days anyway?”

“Why do you fucking care?” Harry snapped. His face fell dark and angry. “You fucking Death Eater.”

“Right,” Draco’s voice frosted over. He took two steps forward to stand over Potter with his four inches. Rage blazed in green eyes as they looked up to meet his gaze. The change in Potter’s demeanor had happened so quickly. Draco brought his fingers up to grip Potter’s chin. “I don’t.”

He let Potter go and stepped around him to walk down the corridor to the stairs down to the dungeons.


	13. Chapter 13

Draco sat in the back of the library doing his arithmancy project. He’d stacked books up around him to hide from view. The last few weeks had dragged out as Slytherins isolated him. After a whole summer by himself, the exception of a few weeks with a grumpy Severus not withstanding, he’d gotten used to the silence of his own thoughts.

He was halfway through working a problem, calculating the numbers in his mind, when someone smacked the books making them topple over and jostle his hand. His quill dragged across the paper leaving a black mark covering his work. Draco surged backwards.

“What the-“ Draco cut off, looking into the face of Ivan. “What the fuck, Romanoff?”

Ivan’s thin lips curled into a smirk. “I needed to get your attention, Draco.”

“You just ruined hours of work,” Draco hissed. He picked up his parchment, several inches long, and began to dab at the ink that marked up the page. Ivan shoved more books out of his way and pulled a seat out from the table. He’d slid his chair out far enough to thunk his dragon hide boots on the desk. Draco paused his ministrations on trying to save as much of his work that he could. “Is there something you need?”

“Nothing at all… from you,” Ivan sneered the last of the sentence with a curl of his lip. “I’m here to check in on you. You seemed not well the last I talked to you.”

Draco remembered the last time they’d talked. He’d taken care to put his quidditch practice robes on and to polish his last season broom. He knew it would be an embarrassment to the team with an old broom, but he reasoned he could get a new one by the time the first match rolled around. As he’d walked to the pitch, excitement for the first time fluttered in his chest. He’d almost made it to the locker rooms when Ivan came around the corner and shoulder checked him.

“The team has decided to reorganize,” Ivan had smiled at him. “And I’m so sorry, Draco. But you’re out.”

“I’m fucking captain, Romanoff, you can’t kick me out,” Draco sneered, but his heart dived down into his gut. He’d been stupid to think after the isolation that he’d be able to stay captain. To even be a part of the team.

“I’m just trying to warn you, save you from embarrassment when you walk in there and your teammates tell you they don’t want you.”

Draco had thought about punching him in his smug face. In the end, he turned on his heel and walked away. He hadn’t flown in months. It was probably a good decision. Really. It infuriated him that he felt so sick about it.

Draco settled down in his seat. He laid the parchment out on the desk in front of him. “I’m fine, Romanoff. Thanks for the check in.”

Ivan pulled his feet off the table and scooted forward to lean against the wood grain with his elbows.

“It must be difficult for you to lose your crown. Your last year here, too. What a shame…” Ivan cooed at him. He reached for Draco’s quill, twirling it between his fingers. Draco narrowed his eyes. “Just so you know, I’m finding it very comfortable being up here at the top.”

Draco snatched the quill out of Ivan’s hand, breaking the fragile stem.

“Do you want me to hurt you?”

Ivan leaned back in his chair and laughed at him. “I’d like to see you try sometime, big guy. Wouldn’t want you to be expelled. However, I know someone who’d be extra happy for you to be home right now. He’s been very lonely since you’ve been gone.”

Draco swallowed, his face draining of color. Ivan stood and straightened his robes, patting down phantom wrinkles. He began to walk away, but stopped to look over his shoulder.

“You’ll be at the match later, right?” Ivan asked. “I can’t wait for you to see my superior seeker skills in action. Slytherin will never know how that got on without me.”

“Can’t fucking wait,” Draco ground out. Ivan continued to walk away and Draco didn’t allow himself to relax until he was no longer in sight. He breathed in and out slowly, finding the space in his mind that allowed for him to calmly fix his parchment.

He kept his zen head space as he copied the working parts to a new document. When he was done, he stood and stretched. When he walked out of the library, his feet carried him to McGonagall’s classroom. It was mid afternoon and the match was probably just starting. It was Slytherin against Gryffindor and even though he could barely admit it to himself, he was interested in seeing how it went. He hoped Ivan would fall off his broom. Preferably face first onto the snitch so that Slytherin could win the game.

The castle was silent as he walked through it. He wasn’t surprised. Everyone was on edge. Even though the Dark Lord hadn’t made his presence formally known, the atmosphere had been tense because of his machinations. There were anti muggle and pureblood rhetoric filling newspapers and government. Muggleborn protests popped up the last Hogsmeade weekend. Hogwarts’ students were ready for a silly game to take their minds off the big picture.

As he entered the transfiguration classroom, he realized he wasn’t the only one there. He stepped in and on instinct, closed the door behind him when he caught sight of the back of Potter’s black unruly hair. 

“Potter, why aren’t you on the field?” Draco asked, genuinely baffled. Potter sat crosslegged on a desk positioned in front of the large open window that looked out on the Quidditch field. He held binoculars in his hand.

“I got kicked off the team,” he said while scooting over, making space for Draco. The gesture seemed odd. After the first night back, he hadn’t spoken to Potter. He’d seen him in classes looking extremely hungover with his friends trailing him with dour disapproving expressions. The golden trio looked decidedly less golden lately.

Draco hopped up on the table to sit beside him. “That’s fucking stupid. You’re the best seeker Hogwarts has seen in years. Besides me, of course.”

“Heh, yeah, no such luck,” Potter said, handing him the binoculars. “Apparently I’m a drunk which means I’m a liability which means I’m not allowed on a broom let alone the team.”

Draco looked through the lens and watched as the players swerved in and out of plays on the field. Gryffindor was ahead by five points.

“It looks like it might be a close one,” Draco said. “They got she-weasel to take your place? She doesn’t stand a chance against Romanoff.”

“Hey,” Potter slapped his arm. “That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about. At least, I think she’s still my girlfriend.”

“She’s your girlfriend?” Draco asked, incredulously. He slid his gaze over to Potter. “You look sober today, Potter.”

Potter glared at him before snatching the binoculars away from him.

“Hermione slipped me some kind of potion to where I get violently ill when in contact with alcohol. She’s feeling really proud of herself right now.”

“Isn’t she always?”

Potter slumped forward, resting his chin in his hands. He gazed at Draco softly, the binoculars forgotten in his hand.

“Flying was everything to me, you know?” Potter finally said. “And because I’m so messed up, I lost it.”

“You might not be able to play Quidditch, but you can still go flying,” Draco snorted at Potter’s dramatics. “Not to mention, it wouldn’t be worth playing anyway since I’m not on the field anymore.”

Potter perked up, lifting his head from his hand. He turned fully toward Draco. “Why did you quit the team?”

Draco felt the bitter smile spread across his face. “I didn’t quit. Romanoff led a coup and as a result, I was kicked off the team.”

“I thought you were smarmy until I met that guy. You’re like a kitten comparatively,” Potter grimaced. He reached a hand out to rest against Draco’s shoulder. “You’ve been like a shadow. I never see you around anymore.”

Draco put his hand over Potter’s. His heart twisted a little when he heard the echo of the crowd roar with excitement. Potter pulled his hand away at the distraction to look through the binoculars.

“Snitch?” Draco asked.

“Nope,” Potter answered. “Looks like Dean took a bludger to the arm. Ugh, that’s gross. You can see bone.”

Potter offered the binoculars to Draco. Instead, Draco grabbed Potter’s wrist. Potter flinched at his touch. He leaned forward to kiss Potter’s mouth. His lips were warm and dry and Draco wanted more if only to make himself feel better. Instead of pulling him closer like usual, Potter sat stiff under his touch. Draco sat back, confused.

Potter bit the corner of his lip. His gaze was lowered like he couldn’t even look at Draco.

“Sorry,” Potter said. “Girlfriend now, remember?”

Draco felt the hot flush of his temper run through his veins. He grasped for his Occlumens headspace.

“Of course,” Draco breathed out. A switch flipped in his brain and his body twitched to hit Potter. If he couldn’t kiss him, might as well knock his glasses off his stupid face. Another roar reverberated through the window and Potter held out the binoculars. Draco took them, trying his best to imitate stone on the inside. He looked through the binoculars and saw Romanoff dive toward the ground at a rapid speed. Weasley followed him down, but Draco could tell that she didn’t see the snitch. That was because there wasn’t one. Ivan was trying to pull off Krum’s famous feint move.

It made sense that he’d have that move in his repertoire. He remembered when Potter had pulled that stunt on him. It had infuriated him. He could see by the red spreading on the Gryffindor seeker’s face that she loved the move as much as he had.

“Your girlfriend,” Draco spit the word girlfriend as he handed the binoculars over, “is pissed. Romanoff just executed the Wronsky feint.”

Draco chose not to look at Potter when he’d handed the binoculars back, but when Potter didn’t take them, he had to look. Potter faced him completely with his legs folded up. He rested his chin on his knees and gazed at Draco without pause.

“I got something on my face, Potter?” Draco bit the words at him. He sat the binoculars on the desk.

“Why are you mad that I’ve got a girlfriend?” Potter asked. “Why do you even care?”

Draco bristled. “I don’t care.”

“It was stupid to kiss you those times when I was drunk,” he said. “I felt like I was spinning out of control. That I was losing my mind. I thought drinking helped. I thought kissing you helped. I think it was just sent me spiraling.”

“We’re all losing our minds here, Potter,” Draco’s tone was clipped. He wanted to squirm away from Potter’s gaze. “You don’t have to explain it to me. It was a hook up. A stupid, sloppy hook up that is to never be repeated. I got it.”

“I’m not trying to hurt your feelings-“ Potter began, but Draco raised a hand.

“Are you even listening to yourself right now?” Draco barked a laugh. “When did you even start to care about my feelings? We’re enemies, Potter. We’re on opposite sides of a political and moral line.”

“I know,” Potter whispered, and Draco couldn’t see too clearly behind Potter’s glasses, but he thought he made out tears welling up in his green eyes. “I know this. It’s just really fucking hard to keep it together. I feel like it’s tearing me apart. It’s ripping me at the seams. When I’m with you, it just stops for a little while. But we can’t. It’s dangerous and stupid. And I have a girlfriend now and my friends would kill me.”

And Voldemort would literally tear him limb from limb after flaying his flesh off piece by piece for his amusement. If he ever dug into Draco’s mind and got a hold of the memories of Potter, it would be over.

They sat like that for awhile until Potter’s tears began to leak down his face. He didn’t even try to hide them or brush them away. Draco swallowed down the lump in his throat. He put a hand on Potter’s knees, pushing them off the table to make room for him to sit closer. Potter was short next to him even when sitting and it seemed only practical to take him by the shoulders and pull him close. Potter squirmed.

“Stop it, Potter,” Draco growled. “There’s nothing wrong with a fucking hug, okay. Your girlfriend’s got nothing to worry about.”

Potter stopped. Instead, amazingly, after a pause, he tucked himself under Draco’s arm, snuggling into him. He let his wet cheek rest against Draco’s neck. For a minute, Draco didn’t feel so achingly alone.


	14. Chapter 14

Weeks crawled by and Draco didn’t think of Potter. He didn’t think of his potions. He didn’t think of Voldemort in his home. It was hard not to think about these things, but he did alright. He dived into his coursework. He woke up early and worked out. He practiced his battle magic in the early light of morning. It was exhausting how hard he pushed himself, but it was also peaceful. 

He ignored the looks he got from Blaise across the room. Blaise usually had a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw in his lap which was normal for him. He ignored the way Pansy was becoming stiffer and more silent in the Common Room. How she looked pretty, immaculate really, next to Ivan and how if he looked at her for too long, she reminded him a little of his mother. He ignored how Potter holds hands with the she-weasel in the hallways like an after thought. She guides him from class to class like he wouldn’t make it without her. His friends follow them around, too involved in each other to notice how fucking fragile Potter’s getting. He ignored it. He really did.

He felt strong for the first time ever. He even sent his robes off to be tailored to fit around the muscles he’d built. His Occlumency helped him focus on his school work and he was pretty sure he was trouncing Granger as the top student. It felt good to be doing so well. Except that his father was still rotting in Azkaban.

He tried to ignore that, too. He tried to be patient. But it was difficult. Every day the paper would come in and it became clearer that Voldemort was making moves in the Ministry. There was talk of a muggleborn registry being legislated. It was small things that reminded Draco that a movement was happening outside the steady stone walls of Hogwarts.

It was possible that because his life at Hogwarts seemed so constant, so outside of Voldemort and his plans, that when the night came to rescue his father, it surprised him.

Draco walked back from dinner with a book tucked under his arm. It was Halloween and the muggleborns were throwing a costume party in the Great Hall. He was not down for that shit. He left as soon as he’d gobbled down a few bites of meatloaf. He’d almost made it to the common room when a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

He almost struck out before he realized it was Severus.

“Draco,” Severus said his name differently than he’d said it since the term began. It held weight and sadness in it. “Come with me to my office.”

He swallowed. He knew that it was finally, finally time for him to save his father. A million thoughts traveled through his mind. He gripped his wand hidden in his sleeve. Was he wearing the right shoes? He followed Severus’ billowing robe, stepping past him when he opened his office door to him.

Severus remained quiet while shutting the door and warding it behind him. He handed Draco the dark robes and cruel white mask of Death Eaters to don. A chill traveled down Draco’s back as a memory of the fat man dying in the green light of Severus’ wand flashed in his mind. He dressed quickly and performed charms on himself. He’d learned efficient deflect and stealth charms the past weeks.

“What’s the plan?” Draco asked and found his voice shaking. He tried to steal himself. He was going to be better this time. He was stronger this time. It counted more this time than before because this time he was going to save his father.

Severus hadn’t put his mask on yet. He looked at Draco with those dark eyes that made him stick in place with their intensity. Draco’d avoided Severus’ gaze for months now because of that.

“We’re using a portkey to join the others,” Severus said, his voice monotonous. “You stick by my side. Our task is to handle the top floor. It will be the most difficult to get to. We have twenty minutes before the Ministry will be notified and Aurors apparate in. At that point, extraction is significantly more difficult.”

Draco nodded. Severus withdrew a piece of parchment from his robe pocket.

“Take this map. Study it. If we get lost, find your way to the waters edge on the northwest pier. That is the extraction point. Do not attempt to apparate except for that location.”

He refused to let his fingers tremble as he took the map, studying it for a moment before pocketing it. Severus walked closer to him and Draco’s breath caught in his throat. Severus’ hands gripped Draco’s shoulders.

“Do not hesitate to kill, Draco,” Severus said softly. “Tonight, it is kill or be killed. No hesitation.”

“Yes, sir,” Draco said. Severus released his shoulder to tug on his mask. He lifted out an innocuous piece of string and grabbed Draco’s bicep. The tug on Draco’s navel was expected, but unpleasant.

When they landed, Draco’s shoes sunk in the mud. Waves crashed behind him and the noise deafened the space around them. The prison loomed large above him. It was made out of stone with no windows as far as Draco could see. A soul stealing crushing sense fell around him and he gasped.

“Use your Occlumency, Draco,” Severus ordered and Draco slid into a headspace that separated him from all the desperate emotions that clung to the surface. It wasn’t easy, but it was manageable to move forward with Severus. He saw shadowy figures apparate in around them, but they all went their separate ways. They each had their mission.

Draco knew that once he was back at Hogwarts, in his own bed, he’d recoil at the dark dampness of the claustrophobic pit that is Azkaban. But that was for later. The guard that had been stationed at the entrance was already cut down and his body lay in a pool of his own blood. Severus didn’t pause, just pushed forward. Death Eaters around them gathered Dementors to them, some distracting the creatures while others escorted prisoners out.

He tried to keep his eyes forward, but when they strayed to the side and into a cell, he saw emaciated forms with hollow eyes staring back at him. It was like looking at a living corpse. There were so many of them, cell after cell. They took narrow steps to the upper floors and when they reached the landing, Severus signaled a pause. He glanced out the opening and when he did, a red hex spell came flying past his shoulder and marked the wall with a deep indention.

Severus shot the green killing curse and the hallway lit up in brilliant light before Draco heard the thud of the body.

“The alarm has been set,” Severus said as they moved forward. “It’s not much longer now.”

They hurried forward. Draco stepped over the man’s lifeless body. He’d remember the blue eyes still side open and frozen with dirty blond hair skewed over his forehead later. There was no obstacles the rest of the way. Severus began to peer into the cells. Draco couldn’t bring himself to look. His father was on that floor and he wasn’t sure he was ready to see him resemble corpse.

Draco stood right behind Severus, his wand up to shield them from anyone else coming up the stairs. Severus did some fancy wand work and the locks on all of the cells popped open. No one came out of their cells.

“Death Eaters, join me,” Severus spelled sonorous on his voice box and it boomed through the corridor. “The dark lord is alive. He’s sent me to rescue you.”

Draco stood at an angle to see behind him while guarding the opening from behind. He hoped to see his father step out of the enclosures, tall with his shoulders back and his head held high. Instead a skeletal hand slapped the ground outside of a cell. The hand was nothing but bone and skin attached to an equally skinny forearm. After a few seconds, a woman crawled out of the cell, her hair a painful looking rats nest.

“Bellatrix,” Severus stepped forward. He knelt, bringing out a potion and tipping it into the meager line of her mouth. Some dripped down the paper like quality of her skin. It took a few seconds for light to seep back into her eyes. She rose up on her knees, gripping her knobby fingers into Severus’ robes.

“The dark lord lives,” she rasped and it was barely above a whisper.

“He lives,” Severus affirmed. Bellatrix seemed to find her strength and she stood. Severus handed her potions. “Give these to the loyal. We must move quickly.”

Draco heard footsteps moving towards the opening. He saw the flash of blue robes that the guards of Azkaban wore and he sent a curse that blasted the guard backward. He heard the guard gasp and his body thunked down the steps with sickening cracks.

“Severus,” a wheedling voice called from behind him. Draco recognized it belonging to his father. “Help me, Severus.”

Draco felt the desperate longing and fear that he’d held at bay for so long creep under his occlumency. He ran to his father’s cell. When he entered the space, he had to cover his nose because of the stench. His father lay in the cell covered in his own piss and shit.

“Father,” Draco whispered. He cast two cleaning charms. One on his father’s clothing and one on his father’s skin. Lucius shivered at the feeling of the spells against his skin. His hair was tangled in a mass around his head. They’d neglected to shave it before locking him away. A patch near the right temple was suspiciously short like he’d jerked the hair out of his scalp himself. Draco accio’d a potion to him. He knelt by his father’s bed, pushing his mask up to reveal his face. He took his father’s frail hand in his. “I’m here, father.”

Lucius stirred at the touch of Draco’s hand in his. “Son.”

“I need you to sit up and drink this, okay?” Draco encouraged his father. He tugged at Lucius’ shoulders to sit him up enough so that he could lean against the wall. He brought the potion up to his lips, tilting his head back so that the liquid could flow down without much trouble. After a few seconds, the contents were consumed. Lucius gasped. He blinked his eyes rapidly then looked at Draco.

“What are you doing here, Draco?” Lucius tried to get a grip on Draco, but he could only lay his hands on his son, his muscles not working properly yet. “This is no place for you.”

“The dark lord is alive, father,” Draco whispered. “He sent me here to rescue you.”

Lucius started to shake his head. “No. No, that can’t be right. He’d dead.”

“We don’t have much time. Can you stand?”

“No, Draco. You mustn’t, do you hear me? You mustn’t follow him,” Lucius clawed at his robe. “Promise me, son. You’ll find your own path. You won’t end up here. I won’t allow it. Do you hear me, Draco? I won’t allow it.”

Draco felt an icy coldness run through his middle. “There’s no time, okay? Just stand up.”

Lucius stopped fighting him and he got to his feet with help from Draco. Draco slid his mask back over his face as they walked out. Bellatrix had several Azkaban prisoners assembled beside her and Severus was helping out someone from the last cell. Bellatrix nodded to them.

“Draco, lead them to the extraction point,” Severus directed. He had to prisoners hanging from each arm. “I’ll bring up the back. Time is running out.”

Draco hefted his father’s arm over his shoulders as they began the trek down the stairs. He kept looking back and having to stop because the prisoners were slow.

“Severus,” Draco called to him. “We’re losing time.”

“We must get them to the extraction point,” Severus said. “We may have to fight our way out.”

Draco turned and kept making his way down the stairs. Bodies and blood made the trek harder. Draco chose not to recognize the guard with the twisted body as the one he’d shot his curse at. He drug his father along, faster than he thought possible. Even though his father had lost so much weight, it was still difficult. Sweat gathered on his forehead.

They were close to the entrance when a Death Eater with wands in his hands came running up.

“There’s not much time,” the Death Eater said and Draco thought he recognized the voice as his father’s old associate, Walden Macnair. He handed the wands out. The prisoners grabbed for them, their movements shaking and slow. Draco thought this might be a mistake to let them carry wands for the first time in months in such a deteriorated state.

Macnair led the way out of the prison and as Draco practically carried Lucius out, his father sucked in fresh air for the first time in a little over a year. Draco heard a crack to his right, but before he could whip his head to look, Bellatrix had her wand up and the Auror who’d apparated in was struck with a cruciatus curse. Draco kept moving forward despite the man’s screams.

“We’re not going to make it,” Lucius murmured. “There’s going to be more soon.”

“We’re going to make it,” Draco was breathing heavily now. “Look ahead. See the pier there? That’s where we need to make it to apparate out of here, okay?”

Lucius said nothing. The pier was only fifty feet away, but cracks began to fizzle in the air around them. A spell soared past his face and Draco had to fling themselves backwards in order to not get hit. He let go of his father and cast a shield to protect them as he scouted his position.

Severus was locked in a duel with an Auror. Bellatrix was holding her own, if a bit slow. The others were casting mostly defensive spells. An Auror took down one of the prisoners beside them and then turned his sights on Draco. He sent several curses in a succession. Draco met each with practiced ease. He strode forward when he found the opportunity and caught the Auror with a cutting curse across his firing arm.

Draco tried to drag Lucius forward when another Auror cracked into existence behind them. Lucius cast the killing curse, dropping their pursuer instantly. Lucius fell to his knees from the effort.

“Father, we need to keep moving,” Draco tried to pick him up by his arm, but Lucius was dead weight. Lucius looked up at him with empty eyes and hollowed cheeks.

“It’s over for me, son,” Lucius croaked. He pulled up the ratty top that was standard issue prison garb and revealed blackened skin underneath. It spread slowly across pale skin. “They caught me with a rotting death curse. It’s only seconds now.”

Draco dropped to his knees and found the ground cold and hard. “We can fix this. We just have to be quick.”

Lucius grabbed Draco by the neck, stilling him and bringing him close.

“I’m proud of you,” Lucius gasped, the curse working it’s way on his lungs. “Survive this, Draco. Become the person I always knew you would be.”

“No,” Draco protested. “No, I’m here to rescue you. I’m bringing you home.”

Lucius toppled forward and Draco had to catch him. He could only watch as his father’s skin blackened and hardened under his touch. Draco laid Lucius gently to the ground while cradling his head. He wasn’t breathing anymore and there was no more movement in his body.

“No,” Draco whispered. “No, I need you. You can’t leave me here.”

Draco felt the ugly twist in his heart. A hand fell against his shoulder and he snapped his gaze up to find a Death Eater’s mask looking down at him.

“Draco, he’s gone,” Severus said in a voice as hard as stone. “We need to go now. The other’s have made it. It’s just us now.”

Draco stood up on numb legs. He looked down at his father, a blackened corpse in front of him, before turning away. Severus gripped his wrist and dragged him the final stretch. Draco didn’t look back as he made it the rest of the way to the pier and Severus apparated them away.

They apparated just outside the wards of Hogwarts in a remote part of the forest that edged Hogsmead. Severus banished their masks before pulling him into a hug. Draco stood in the embrace stiffly.

“LIfe is temporary,” Severus murmured into his ear. Draco wasn’t sure how to respond so he just stood there as his body began to shiver violently. Severus just held on to him harder. “You did good, Draco. It may not feel like it now. But you survived. You completed the mission. The dark lord will be pleased.”

The dark lord will be pleased. Draco replayed that in his head over and over. He didn’t care if the dark lord was pleased. He cared that his father was dead and he’d failed to save him.

Draco allowed Severus to hold him for a while longer before he pulled away. Severus looked at him for a few minutes before nodding and leading the way to the gate of Hogwarts. They didn’t say anything to each other, but Severus kept a hand on the back of Draco’s neck in an effort to guide and soothe him.

It didn’t feel real. His father was gone and it was his fault.


	15. Chapter 15

Draco figured if he could keep his feet moving forward, his hand clenched around his wand, he’d be okay. He’d find his way to okay, at least. It was hard sometimes to breathe, but he carried on.

Severus led him through the empty halls of Hogwarts. It felt wrong, surreal, to be back at school, but Draco didn’t really feel it. Severus sat him down in the hard angled chair in front of his desk in his office. Draco only blinked when Severus placed a hot cup of tea in his hand.

“Drink it,” Severus ordered. Draco brought the teacup up, the white china clattering against the saucer because of his shaking hands, and took a sip. It slipped down his throat a white hot fire and Draco recognized the flavor. It was chamomile spiked with calming drought.

“I’m not supposed to have this,” Draco said after a moment. His voice sounded odd to his ears, far away.

“You’re in shock,” Severus said, taking a seat behind his desk. He folded his hands against the wood grain and looked like nothing more than a professor about to tell him he did poorly on his last exam. “I’m making an exception. Drink it all.”

Draco looked down at the tea. He felt like he should argue, refuse to do what Severus said, but he just couldn’t remember why he gave a fuck anymore. He brought it to his lips, inhaled the spiced scent, and drank it down in two gulps. His throat burned from the heat, but Draco barely felt it.

“Now what?” Draco asked. It was a completely asinine question. His father was dead. What did it all matter anymore? Severus leaned forward like his question was important and Draco tried to focus on him.

“Listen to me, Draco,” Severus said, “You will go to your dorm. You’re going to get some sleep and then go to class in the morning. You will act like nothing has happened. It is very important that no one knows of your involvement.”

Draco nodded. He was looking into the empty teacup. There were no tea leaves to read. He wondered what kind of bad omens he’d find if there were.

“I’m going to go get some sleep,” Draco repeated. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He stood up and sat the teacup on the desk. Without a word, he walked out and down the corridor to the dorms. He found no one in the common room which was lucky because he didn’t trust not to fall apart if he saw Pansy or Blaise. When he finally laid his head down to rest, an image of his father’s body rapidly rotting in front of him played in a never ending loop.

It was probably the calming draught that put him to sleep. He woke up a few hours later to Vince loudly complaining about his charms paper not being finished. Draco’s whole body felt like lead, but he sat up anyway. He moved on auto pilot. Usually, he tried to avoid the other Slytherins, but he’d slept in and they all reacted to him with quiet regard as he went through his morning routine.

“Nice bags under your eyes there, Draco. Beauty sleep alluding you?” Ivan asked cheerfully as Draco studied himself in the mirror while brushing his teeth. He’d been contemplating how much of a complete failure he was before Ivan interrupted his thoughts. Draco spat paste into the sink and calmly finished his routine before turning to Ivan.

“Have you been enjoying yourself, Ivan?” Draco asked. Ivan had turned and was on his way out of the bathroom when he looked back at Draco.

“Pardon?” Ivan asked with a smirk. “Have I been having fun tearing you down, prince of Slytherin, so that I can climb on your back to replace you? Yes, actually. It’s been a pleasure.”

Draco let the skin around his mouth stretch to show his teeth. Ivan faced him fully and narrowed his eyes. Draco unleashed a nonverbal spell that stuck Ivan to the wall between urinals.

“The hell, Malfoy,” Ivan grunted, wiggling in the hold. “Let me down.”

“No,” Draco said. “I’m glad you’ve been having fun, Ivan. I hope you’ve really got off on this whole thing because soon, you’re not going to have balls.”

“You can’t hurt me,” Ivan glared at him. Draco’s face felt frozen in the crazed smile and he didn’t care. He laughed and when Ivan went pale, he laughed harder. “Let me down right now, Malfoy, or it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

Draco hexed Ivan with a spell that put slow pressure on his larynx.

“No, stop,” Ivan said, his eyes widening and Draco could make out the whites as Ivan got more and more scared. Draco moved closer. He cut open Ivan’s pajamas with an extremely accurate and delicate cutting curse. Ivan would feel the sharpness, a kiss of a cut, but he wouldn’t bleed. Not yet. Ivan gasped as air began to get harder to consume. “Stop, please, stop.”

“You are an ant, Ivan,” Draco said over the pleas. “I ignore ants because they are so insignificant that I don’t let them waste my time. Until they forget their place on the ground. Then I smash them.”

Ivan had stopped speaking and Draco was pleased to see his lips turn a hint of blue. He readied a bone crushing curse when someone walked through the bathroom door. Draco let his eyes flicker to see that it was Blaise, yawning and scratching the back of his head. He walked a few feet in, clearly not recognizing what was going on in front of him before he stopped.

“Draco, what are you doing?” Blaise asked, his hand reaching toward his wand. “You’re killing him.”

“Mind your neutral business, neutral Blaise,” Draco said to his ex best friend, spitting the word neutral. “No one cares what you think. Ivan and I are having fun. Right, Ivan?”

Ivan’s eyes released fat tears down his face and he looked pleadingly toward Blaise. Draco released the spell on Ivan and he watched as the other boy crumpled down the wall gasping for breath. He stepped back and gathered his toiletries while Ivan recovered. He shoved against Blaise’s shoulder, knocking him into a sink as he walked out of the bathroom. 

“Remember, Ivan,” Draco said as he left, “Fun is to be had in moderation.”

Draco felt fire running through his veins as he dressed and made his way to the Great Hall. Urgency thrummed in his body, but he had nothing to direct it to. He sat right next to Pansy at the Great Hall and when she turned to him, she had a look of surprise stuck to her face.

“Good morning, Pansy,” Draco said smoothly, proceeding to butter toast. “You’re having breakfast with me today.”

She gifted him a genuine smile. He missed her bold lip stick. She hadn’t worn it since she started dating Ivan. Draco thought maybe his heart felt a little better for her smile, but everything was too mixed up inside for him to really tell.

“That sounds fabulous, darling,” she flipped her hair over her shoulder. The action made something pang inside him and it felt almost, not quite there yet, too much.

“I’m going to do something stupid today,” he said to her and he felt it again, the weird stretching of his muscles around his mouth. “You should really try not to be in the way when that happens, okay, Pans?”

The small concerned furrow of her brow creased her forehead before she placed a hand on his arm. Draco quivered under her touch. He had to set his toast down.

“Are you okay, Draco? What’s wrong?”

“If you could, Pans, stop touching me,” Draco ground the words out through his teeth. Her touch felt like needles stabbing into his skin. He couldn’t stand it. Doing fancy wand tricks on Ivan didn’t relieve the pressure inside him. It just made it boil hotter and now Draco craved something more physical.

Then Potter squalled over at the Gryffindor table, catching Draco’s attention.

“Hermione, if you put that shit in my pumpkin juice today, I’ll barf in your hair on purpose this time,” Potter yelled. He stood up in front his mudblood friend. Draco’s attention zeroed in on the buffoon. It looked like Potter was already drunk. “I can’t do it today, okay? I just can’t.”

Mail flooded in and the morning paper fell on tables. Draco glanced at Pansy’s copy and saw the large breaking news headline. He swallowed a hard lump down his throat. His eyes travelled lower and he caught sight of the picture. It was a picture of Lucius, tall and proud in his Malfoy regalia on the day of his swearing in as a school governor. Beside it was a blurry photo of a blackened hand falling out of a blanketed gurney. He’d held that hand hours earlier as it shriveled and shrank, turning black.

He crumpled the paper. A horrible noise escaped him before he stood up.

“Oh, no, Draco,” Pansy whispered, her hand over her mouth, tears in her eyes.

He walked across the Great Hall. The other students focused on their papers and as they all started to realize what had happened, their eyes turned to find him.

He saw red. Potter was still standing when Draco made his way to him. He turned his big, oblivious eyes on Draco as he grabbed him by his shirt and hurled him to the ground. Potter went crashing down like the drunk he was.

“Hey, watch it,” Potter slurred at him. He’d caught himself with one hand. Draco straddled Potter’s hips and he found himself taking a second to consider hitting him or kissing him. He’d like to bite his stupid lip and taste his blood. He chose to let his fist barrel down on Potter’s face instead. Pain blossomed across his knuckles as Potter’s head snapped back. Draco reached back and did it again.

It felt like release. It felt good to hit Potter. He’d been kissing him so much that he’d forgotten what hitting him was like.

“You stupid fucking failure,” Draco wheezed as he punched. “The only thing you were good for was killing the Dark Lord and you couldn’t even get that part right.”

Hands grabbed under Draco’s armpits, dragging him off a bloodied Potter. Draco struggled to get out of the grip, but a fist connected to his nose and he saw stars as another connected to his stomach.

He was half unconscious when the fight was over.

“Fifty points from Slytherin and Gryffindor!” He heard McGonagall yell. His body was suspended in air, much like how he’d had Ivan earlier. She released the spell and Draco collapsed to the ground. He thought he might cry. He wanted to.

Never let them see your weakness. 

He focused on the aching pain in his body and pretended that none of it came from his heart.


	16. Chapter 16

Draco’s consciousness wavered in and out while he remained collapsed on the ground from when McGonagall released her spell.

“Professor, he jumped Harry like a rabid animal—“ he heard the weasel snivel to his head of house before darkness dragged him under. When he came back, he felt hands on him.

“Oh, Harry, your nose is broken,” the she-weasel fawned over Potter. He thought about opening his eyes and then decided that he might not ever open them again.

“Draco, wake up,” Pansy was next to him. It was her hands patting along his body. She was probably looking for broken bones. Draco opened his mouth and nothing came out. He tried to reassure her. Instead, a horrible broken noise escaped his throat. Draco rolled towards Pansy. He reached out blindly and found her kneeling next to him. He buried his face into her robes.

With each breath that passed, the noises escalated and Draco couldn’t stop them.

“What is happening here?” Severus joined them and his voice twisted Draco’s guts. He didn’t want to be near him right now. He didn’t want Severus to see him this weak. Pansy stroked his hair and even though her touch still felt like needles against his skin, he couldn’t bring himself to move away.

“It appears that Mr. Malfoy attacked Mr. Potter,” McGonagall sounded weary. “I’d say detention is in order.”

“Detention?” Weasel yelled. “He deserves expulsion!”

“Sit down, Mr. Weasley,” McGonagall rebuked. “I did not ask for your opinion here. For your part in retaliation against Mr. Malfoy, you’ll serve detention this Saturday with me. You as well, Mr. Thomas, for your part in restraining Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco felt more hands against his back. He coughed, trying in vain to catch his breath. “Can you please stop touching me?”

His words came out mangled and twisted.

“He needs help,” Potter said and he sounded like Draco had definitely broken his nose. “There’s something wrong with him.”

“How astute, Mr. Potter,” Severus sneered and Draco knew then from how close he was that it was his hands on his back. “Mr. Malfoy, I need you to stand.”

He shuddered and moved away from Pansy. Severus grabbed his hand to help him sit up.

“Professor, he doesn’t look good,” Pansy said, helping him stay upright.

“Open your eyes, Draco,” Severus said into his ear. He exhaled and tried to do what he was told. He opened his eyes and shut them immediately. The quick exposure to light blinded him and he felt like he was going to throw up. He put a hand over his mouth and gagged. “I think he has a concussion.”

Arms cradled under his legs and armpits. Severus lifted him off the ground like he was a rag doll. He let his head loll to the side to rest against Severus’ shoulder. He didn’t hear much after that as he fell back into unconsciousness.

The next time he came to, his ears were ringing. He opened his eyes to find himself not in the hospital wing, but a small bedroom. Severus held out a potion to him. He’d doubtless brought him back to consciousness with a spell.

“I don’t need another calming draught,” Draco slurred. “I’m fine.”

“As much as I disagree with you, this is for your concussion,” Severus handed him the potion. Draco gingerly sat up on an elbow to swallow it down. “You should get some rest now that I know you won’t die in your sleep.”

“I’d be better off,” Draco mumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He handed the empty vial back to Severus. “Nice bedroom.”

Severus scowled at him. Draco reached for Severus’ robes to pull him down. Draco had him bent over him and he used their positions to press his lips against Severus’. It was a desperate clumsy move. Severus resisted him, pulling away and grabbing Draco’s reaching hands. He pushed them against the bed with bruising force.

“Stop being inappropriate,” Severus hissed. “I brought you here only because I was afraid for your safety in the hospital wing.”

“Remember when you had me on my knees-“ Draco began. Severus silenced him with a spell.

“That was a mistake. Stop embarrassing yourself.”

Draco flung himself back against the pillows. Despite the aches in his body, a thrumming coursed through his body. He wanted to fuck or fight or scream and Severus was not helping any of it. 

“I’m going to heal your face now,” Severus said, his expression set in stone. He’d released the silencing spell.

“No,” Draco replied. He turned away from Severus. “Leave it. I want to feel it.”

Severus stood over Draco for a few moments before leaving, the door behind him clicking in place. Draco laid there for a long time feeling the aches from his body and trying to clear his mind with occlumency. After a while, his limbs got heavy and he dozed off. His last thought was that Severus’ bed was more comfortable than he thought it would be.

He dreamed about his father’s bones blackened from the curse. He dreamed about his mother standing over them and looking at him with a mirthless smile. Creeping dark lines ran up her arms and neck, blacking out her face until she was nothing but blue eyes and white blonde hair staring at him.

He woke up with a gasp. His heart raced in his chest. He stood up and walked out of Severus’ bedroom and found himself in a tiny sitting area. Severus sat in front of a fireplace marking essays. He paused his work when Draco entered the room.

“I’m leaving,” Draco said. Severus stared at him before he looked back down at his essays, waving him off with ink stained fingers. Draco stalked forward, disappointed that Severus wasn’t going to stop him. He let the door slam behind him.

He made it halfway down the corridor to the Slytherin dorms when he heard someone behind him.

“Malfoy, wait,” Potter said. Draco whirled around to find Potter drowning in his too big muggle clothing. His face looked unblemished.

“What are you doing here?” Draco asked. He vibrated with anger at the very sound of Potter’s voice. The sight of his healed face made Draco want to punch him again.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Potter said, his shoulders rounded forward. If Draco didn’t know any better, he’d think Potter was acting shy. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Draco turned on his heel and kept walking. If he stood in front of Potter for much longer, he’d kill him.

“No, wait,” Potter said, and he grabbed at Draco’s shoulder. Draco let his instincts kick in and snatched Potter’s wrist, twisting painfully to get Potter to buckle to the ground. Potter didn’t though. He twisted into it and stepped into Draco’s space, breaking his grip. He wrapped his arms around Draco’s middle and squeezed.

“What-“ Draco snapped and realized he had no words. Potter clung to him like an octopus. Draco feebly pushed against his shoulders. “Get off me.”

“No,” Potter said, impossibly squeezing harder.

“This is ridiculous. You’re being ridiculous,” Draco said, but all his malice drained away. He rested his hands on Potter’s shoulders.

“I read what happened,” Potter said. “I get it. Why you hit me. I’d hit myself if I could. Because you’re right. If I wasn’t such a fuck up, Voldemort would be dead for good and all these terrible things wouldn’t be happening.”

Draco flinched at Potter’s use of Voldemort’s name. “I’m not going to not agree with you about this, Potter. Let me go and I won’t break your nose again.”

Potter released him and he felt less better. Having arms around him, grounding him felt nicer than he wanted to admit.

Footsteps sounded from around the corner. Someone was returning to the Slytherin dorms. Potter pulled his silvery cloak out and flung it around himself, disappearing before Blaise stepped around the corner.

“Draco, hey,” Blaise said, surprised. His tie draped askew against his chest and the buttons of his shirt mismatched. “I figured you’d be at the manor with your mother.”

Draco scowled. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, Zabini.”

“Woah, hey,” Blaise said as he walked closer. “I know we haven’t been talking much this semester, but you know I’m here for you, Draco. I’m sorry about your father.”

Draco swallowed a lump down. “You can’t have it both ways. You can’t ignore me for months and then offer sympathies. Don’t pity me, Zabini. I don’t need it.”

Blaise walked forward and put his hands on Draco’s shoulders. Draco didn’t shrug him off, but the touch made him shake.

“My offer stands, Draco,” Blaise whispered. He pleaded with eyes and pulled at Draco’s heart. “Say the word and I can get you out of here, hide you half a world away. There’s nothing keeping you here.”

Draco stood frozen. He wanted to take Blaise up on the offer. The memory of his father rotting under his touch replayed fresh in his mind. If he let Blaise take him away, he’d be free from Voldemort’s cold, red eyes. He’d be free to find some other way to live.

“I can’t,” he choked out. He swallowed, trying to regain his composure. “My mother…”

Blaise’s face fell. He squeezed Draco’s shoulders and it felt like his last offering of goodbye before walking away. Blaise gave him one last sad smile as he entered the Slytherin dorms.

Draco thought about laying down where he stood and never getting back up again. A disembodied hand grabbed his.

“Come on,” Potter said. “There’s something I want to show you.”

Draco let himself be led by an invisible Potter. He was tired and wanted a shower, but that all seemed too far below the surface for him to care about. He followed Potter up and up the staircases until they were on the seventh floor. They kept their hands linked as they walked, not separating when their palms got clammy.

When Potter released his hand, he took off his invisibility cloak. His hair was messier than it had been.

“Think of a room you want to be in right now. Everything and anything you can imagine,” he said to Draco. “Then keep it in your mind as you walk back and forth in front of the wall.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Draco said, his limbs starting to feel heavy. His face hurt from the bruising on it. “You’re being ridiculous again.”

“You came all this way,” Potter said, pushing him forward. “Might as well do it.”

Draco sighed and imagined a sitting room like Severus’ with a fireplace and with bruise salve and an attached bathroom. He’d give anything to just lay down for minute after a bath and imagined a bed that he could fall into. When he turned around to walk the length back to Potter, a door appeared.

“What’s going on?” Draco asked, wiping a hand across his face. Potter opened the door, holding it open for him.

“It’s called the room of requirement. You just imagine what you want the room to be and then it appears,” Potter explained. Draco walked through the door feeling a little incredulous, but he found a sitting room that he’d imagined with two open doorways where Draco could just make out to be a bathroom and bedroom.

“This is—” Draco paused. He wasn’t sure what to say. It was unimaginable. It felt weird that Potter of all people would show him this. “Why show me this? After I broke your nose earlier?”

Potter walked in to stand beside him. His hand came up to ruffle the hair at the back of his neck. “Yeah, that sucked. Like I said, I read the papers and I get it. Honestly, I’m not sure why I’m doing this. I just thought you needed a space. I remember how hard it was when I lost someone really close to me.”

Draco nodded. He stepped further into the room.

“I’m going to go take a bath,” Draco said. Before he entered the bathroom, he looked back at Potter. He stood next to the door like he was about to walk out and leave him there. An uncomfortable feeling curled inside Draco. “Could you… maybe not leave?”

Potter tried not to smile, Draco could tell, but when he did, a relieved feeling flooded his limbs.

“Yeah. I’ll be here,” Potter said, and sat down on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table. He sent a spell toward the fireplace and yellow red flames erupted from the pit. Draco allowed himself to turn to the bathroom.

The tub was a modest size. Now that Draco knew he could have imagined anything, he cursed himself for not imagining something luxurious. He ran scalding hot water and found sandalwood bath soap to mix into the water. He subconscious must of been thinking about how good Potter’s hair smelled when he octopus’ed him earlier.

He soaked in the bath until the skin on his fingers and toes wrinkled. He scrubbed his body raw. When he stepped out of the water and wrapped a towel around himself, he didn’t feel any better. His chest felt like an empty hole gnawing at the rest of him and nothing he could do would make it better.


	17. Chapter 17

He didn’t want to put his clothes back on after his bath, not able to stand the scratchiness of the material. He opted for the black robe hanging on a hook. Draco wrapped it around himself before stepping to the door. He took a deep breath and opened it. Potter sat where Draco left him, staring into flames. He stood up when he heard Draco closing the door behind him.

“Hey,” Potter said, he held bruising salve in his hand, holding it up to show Draco. He walked forward until he got close enough for Draco to lean down and kiss him if he wanted. It made him very aware of the thin robe he wore. “I found this on the coffee table. Why didn’t Snape fix you up? I figured he would have since I didn’t see you in the hospital wing.”

“I asked him not to heal me,” Draco said, finding himself oddly strangled. The adrenaline was back, making his body hum with a desire to act. He held himself very still.

“Oh,” Potter furrowed his eyebrows. He brought his free hand up and barely touched the hollow of Draco’s cheek. His touch stung a little. Draco caught Potter’s wrist like a viper striking prey. This time, with Potter’s wrist in hand, he didn’t try to take Potter to the ground. Instead, he turned his face into Potter’s palm and kissed the skin there. Potter gasped and Draco took it as encouragement. He bent his head lower, placing his mouth on the skin of his wrist, feeling Potter’s pulse against his lips. When Potter pulled his hand away, he did it slowly, hesitantly. “Let me heal you, Draco.”

A thrill of excitement shivered down his spine at the use of his name on Potter’s lips. Potter’s voice pitched lower than it had been. Draco brought his hand to the back of Potter’s neck, letting his fingers slide through the hair he found there. Potter looked at him with his stupid fluttering eyelashes and pink parted lips.

“Have you been drinking?” Draco asked.

“No, what does that matter?”

“I like to make sure my lovers are fully cognizant in consent,” Draco smirked. Potter’s eyes widened before he let out a startled laugh.

“Lovers?” Potter said, taking a step back. His face was open in a surprised smile. “That’s so… smarmy of you. I never figured you one to be so chivalrous.”

Draco rocked back on his heels. Their moment was broken. The bubbling blackness in his chest grew a little bigger.

“I’m not a monster. No matter what you think of me,” Draco retorted before walking into the bedroom alone. He was greeted with the exact replica of his bedroom at the manor. The familiarity of home stopped him in his tracks. He bit his lip to hold in a scream.

“Hey, wait,” Potter said, following behind him. “I’m stone cold sober. You can thank Hermione for that. And I don’t think you’re a monster. I think you’re a rich, privileged bastard who doesn’t know how good he had it.”

Draco squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could. When he opened them, it was still his bedroom from the manor in front of him. Potter walked around to stand in front of him. He put his hands on Draco’s shoulders.

“I’m going to kiss you now, okay?” Draco choked out. Potter looked pensive, but nodded. Draco pulled Potter to him by his biceps, unyielding under his fingertips, and crashed his lips against his. He bit at Potter’s mouth and when he gasped, Draco slid his tongue into his hot mouth. Potter’s hands came up to squeeze Draco’s hips through the robe. He felt like he couldn’t breathe and when he disconnected his mouth to gasp in air, Potter left sucking wet kisses on his neck.

“That, uh, escalated quickly,” Draco said as Potter’s fingers traveled to the opening of his robe at his chest, sliding under the fabric and across the bare skin of his chest and shoulders. Potter’s hands were hard and calloused. They sent a fire burning through Draco’s body.

He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. He knew he shouldn’t get any more entangled with Potter than he already was, but he couldn’t find a reason to stop. He wanted, needed, something to take his mind far away.

Draco wasn’t ready for Potter to run his hands down his torso, pressing against the bruises there. He flinched away. They both looked down to see his exposed chest where a blue black mark marred the upper right area of his ribs.

“Shit,” Potter said. “That looks bad. Is it broken?”

“It’s fine,” Draco said through clenched teeth because it was still twinging terribly from the pressure Potter put on it. “It looks worse than it is.”

“Jesus, okay,” Potter said, turning away from him and running hands through his hair. “Go sit on the bed. Let me get this salve on you at least.”

“As you desire, golden boy,” Draco sniffed as he walked to his bed. He shimmied up his bed and fluffed pillows to rest behind his back. Potter rolled his eyes at him as he climbed on the bed. He paused like he wasn’t sure how he should position himself before throwing a leg over Draco’s lap and straddling him. It was becoming Draco’s favorite position to have him in.

Potter pulled the bruise salve out of his pocket, but not without squirming on Draco’s lap. When he caught Draco’s eye, he flushed pink across his neck. 

“Are you ready?” Potter asked, fingers covered in the thick goop of the salve.

“By all means, savior.”

Potter made a face at him before smoothing the cream gently across the bruising on his ribs. Draco clenched his teeth to get through the pain and to ignore the accompanying feeling of tingling from being petted.

“Am I hurting you?” Potter asked. Draco barked a laugh.

“Does it matter?”

“Close your eyes,” Potter ordered. His fingers against his face were even gentler. It was a soft touch that had him working the muscle in his jaw. When Potter’s fingers left his face, he pressed his lips softly against Draco’s before he could open his eyes.

They kissed slowly. The ferocity of his desire from before simmered under his skin. Draco rubbed his hands along Potter’s sides before sliding under his shirt and touching his skin. He felt the cut of his hip bone, pressing his thumbs into his skin.

Potter pulled away and Draco chased his lips, failing to recapture the kiss. He leaned back as Potter pulled his shirt over his head.

“Oh,” Draco said, involuntarily. Potter blinked at him.

“Oh?”

“I just didn’t expect you to be so… fit,” Draco searched for the right term. He let his fingertips trace along Potter’s chest and along the grooves of his stomach. “I thought you’d be a scrawny rat under all those rags.”

Potter flashed him a shy smile. “Thanks? I guess? I’ve been practicing with Aurors lately. They’ve been trying to make sure I don’t end up dead or whatever with all the pro-dark war propaganda going around. They think I’m a target.”

Draco shifted under Potter’s weight. The conversation veered in the direction of something he didn’t want to think about. He pulled Potter back down to him, sliding his hand up a toned back. He let his hands grip Potter’s ass and he pulled him up so he could roll him over. Potter went easily. Draco licked the skin of his chest, making his way down his stomach, sucking a bruise into the skin of his hip. Potter gasped and shivered as he went.

He thumbed Potter’s jeans open. He took his time pulling off the rest of his clothes, running his palms up Potter’s legs, over knobby knees and solid thighs. Potter’s dick was heavy between his thighs and Draco leaned down to lick the tip. It twitched under his tongue.

When he looked up at Potter, his glasses were slipping down his nose and his hands bunched the duvet at his sides. A flush climbed up his chest and neck. Draco licked his lips, and dragged Potter down so he could rest on his stomach and lean on his elbows.

“Oh,” Potter squeaked as he slid down the bed. His cock bobbed against his stomach.

“Okay?” Draco asked. His voice deepened and he barely recognized himself.

“Yeah,” Potter said, breathless.

Draco pressed his hips into the mattress below him, trying to get some friction to relieve pressure. He took Potter’s cock as far into his mouth as possible and sucked, hollowing his cheeks. Potter’s hips twitched under him, but he stayed still enough for Draco to keep bobbing his mouth up and down.

“Fuck,” Potter breathed after Draco pulled off and then slid his cock back in his mouth and down his throat. Draco’s body burned from desire. He wanted more. He always wanted more from Potter. He pulled his mouth off again.

“I want to fuck you,” Draco said, his voice still deep with an added raspiness. Potter’s head had been thrown back, his neck exposed and his chest rising and falling quickly. He looked up at Draco, his glasses further askew. His eyes were dark and heavy lidded behind the lenses.

“Yes,” he said, rising to his elbows. “Yes, definitely.”

Draco shed his robe, pulling his wand from the pocket and conjured lube in his hand. Potter struggled to sit up before pulling Draco into a kiss. His mouth was open and inviting, waiting for Draco to fill it with his tongue. Potter palmed the lube from Draco’s hand and reached down to grip Draco’s cock. Draco pulled back from the kiss, letting his forehead rest against Potter’s as his hand worked him over with a slick wet slide of his hand.

He grabbed Potter’s wrist to keep him from going. He pushed Potter back down against the bed, grabbing a pillow to place under his hips. He conjured more lube before reaching down to rub against Potter’s furled hole. Potter clenched his cheeks at Draco’s touch. He leaned forward and pressed kisses into Potter’s stomach, rubbing his sides with his free hand. 

“It’s okay,” Draco tried to reassure him. “Just relax.”

Potter released a breath he’d been holding and Draco could feel his body melt under his touch. After awhile of rubbing, he pushed his first knuckle in. Potter clenched and unclenched around him. It was impossibly tight and impossibly hot. Draco kept rubbing Potter’s sides and kissing his stomach as he continued, adding fingers as Potter relaxed. Draco pushed his fingers into the wet heat. He leaned back to watch as Potter’s hole sucked him in. He inhaled through his nose, closing his eyes before releasing it slowly.

“No, don’t do that. Don’t close your eyes,” Potter’s voice was rough, “Look at me. Please.”

Hearing Potter say please had Draco biting a his lip, but he opened his eyes and drank in Potter’s lean body with a slight sheen of sweat emphasizing the planes of his toned stomach and arms. Draco leaned down and licked the crease of abdomen by his navel, relishing the moan it elicited from Potter.

“Draco, please, don’t fucking stop,” Potter begged. He thrust his fingers inside the tight heat, working Potter open for him and searching for his prostate. He pulled Potter’s leg over his shoulder and dipped his head down to take Potter’s swollen cock back into his mouth. His fingers found his spot on the third thrust of his fingers. Potter keened, hips lifting off the bed. Draco pulled his mouth off his cock, a string of saliva and precome connecting them for a moment. He kept pumping his fingers in, relentlessly hitting Potter’s prostate.

“Draco, I need...” he cut off with a pitiful moan, his head thrown back against the pillows exposing the long line of his neck. Draco leaned forward to lick across the curve of his Adam’s apple, landing a kiss on his open panting mouth.

“It’s okay,” Draco murmured softly against his cheek. “I’ve got you.”

He conjured more lube into his palm, coating his cock before lining it up with Potter’s entrance. He held on to Potter’s legs, his dark eyes still looking at him from behind his glasses. When Draco slid in, Potter released a long low moan. He fucked into Potter with slow, shallow thrusts.

“Oh, fuck,” Potter moaned. He brought his hands up and reached for Draco. Draco leaned forward, catching Potter’s lips with his. They slipped across each other’s mouths until Draco buried his face in Potter’s neck, his nose buried in Potter’s aromatic hair. He was practically folding Potter in half, fucking in to him as Potter’s arms encased him around his middle, clinging to him desperately.

They stayed like that for a long time before Potter released him, pushing him up.

“I need you to fuck me harder,” Potter gasped out as Draco sat up. “I want you to split me open. I want to feel it for days.”

Draco bit his lip, biting off a moan. He adjusted Potter’s legs to fall against his shoulders, his hands gripping hard at Potter’s hips. He sped up his pace, driving in deeper than he could have went while he was bent over. Potter keened, his head falling back, his face screwed up.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” Potter babbled as Draco fucked him relentlessly up the bed. Draco began to feel the heat in his low belly gain pressure. He wasn’t going to last much longer. He pumped Potter’s dick in his hand. Potter gripped the pillow under his head, an endless stream of moaning words falling out of his mouth.

Draco came and saw stars. Pleasure zinged down his spine, flooding his fingertips and toes. He moaned long and loud, adding to Potter’s litany. He tried to keep fucking Potter through it, but he couldn’t. He pulled out and Potter gasped. Draco moved quickly back to his stomach. He took Potter’s cock into his mouth, bobbing and sucking fiercely. With his other hand, he slid his fingers back into Potter’s hole, wet and open for him, and began to finger his prostate. He felt Potter begin to quake under him before come filled his mouth. He swallowed it down, releasing the head from his mouth with a pop.

Potter sat up with a wince to grab Draco by the shoulders and pull him up to lay next to him. Draco let him move him, let him curve around him and lay his head on his chest. He was exhausted, his body shaking a little from the force of the orgasm that hit him.

He was glad Potter didn’t say anything as they laid together, nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing filling the room. He wasn’t sure how long it lasted before he began to feel the sweat become tacky against his skin. Potter began to fidget next to him.

“I’m going to go take a bath,” he said, sitting up slowly. He still had his glasses on and Draco wondered how they’d managed to stay on his face through that. “Would you want — I mean — do you want to come with me? I mean, I know you just had one, but I thought…”

Draco struggled to sit up as well. “Yes.”

Later, when they were soaking in the bath together, Potter leaning against Draco’s chest, he felt lighter.


	18. Chapter 18

Potter kept kissing his neck and touching the small of his back, little caresses of his fingertips that made shivers run down Draco’s spine every time. He was the most affectionate person that Draco had ever been intimate with. It felt weird to look at Potter without his glasses on when he’d finally pulled them off his face to bath and then later when they crawled under the covers together.

Draco kept the bedroom door wide open to remind himself that he was not in the manor. It only helped a little. When he closed his eyes, his mind raced, images flashing by more terrible than the last. Potter scooted over to him, pulling Draco into him, and laughably, becoming big spoon. He felt off kilter. It surprised him that it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep.

He dreamed of Severus’ disappointed eyes looking at him then morphing into the blank fog of his father’s emaciated face.

“Survive this,” his father said, his tongue blackened in his mouth.

His father’s face morphed again into Voldemort’s red eyed sadist’s grin.

“I’m looking forward to our next encounter, Draco,” he hissed, sounding like when Draco had first met him when he wore the skin of a monster instead of a man. Then green eyes began to bleed into the red.

“Wake up,” Potter said. “Wake up now.”

Draco started awake, struggling to consciousness. When he opened his eyes, red green eyes looked down at him.

“Your eyes,” Draco gasped. He blinked and when he opened them again, Potter’s eyes were just green.

“Hey,” Potter said, petting the side of his face. “You were having a nightmare.”

His touch felt like needles against his skin. “I need you to stop touching me.”

Potter’s hands left him. He took a deep breath and sat up. Potter moved to the side of the bed, standing up and grabbing a shirt from the floor. Draco took in his naked torso one last time before Potter pulled a shirt over his head.

“Hey, so—“ Potter began, looking at Draco through his glasses. “I’ve got to go.”

“No need to keep your girlfriend waiting,” Draco nodded along, standing up and pulling a shirt over his own head. Potter’s mouth twisted.

“That’s not what I was going to say,” he said, turning from Draco. His hands went to his hair, tugging at the ends. He shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out his flask. Draco grabbed his elbow as he was about to drink from it.

“Stop that,” Draco demanded. “What were you going to say?”

Potter gave a half hearted attempt to get out of Draco’s hold before giving up. He twisted the cap back on the flask and put it in his pocket.

“She’s cheating on me,” Potter said through clenched teeth. “After everything, she’s cheating on me with Dean.”

Draco was tempted to laugh, but he didn’t really want Potter retaliating for his broken nose at that moment. Instead, he pulled Potter in to his chest. Potter came to him easily, melting in his arms. A pang of uncomfortable awareness coursed through Draco. It was getting too easy to be nice to Potter. 

It was Potter who laughed for him. It lacked any amusement, a hollow and black thing.

“If you’re not going to see her,” Draco said, “where are you going?”

Potter pulled away from Draco, turning to pick up his socks and shoes from the ground. “Training with Aurors.”

Something heavy settled in his stomach as he watched Potter slip his socks and shoes on. He studied Draco with a pensive look on his face.

“Is it okay if I kiss you now?” Potter asked, and Draco thought he heard a tremor of nervousness. Draco grabbed Potter’s shirt to bring him close again. It felt final, having Potter in his arms. Potter surged up and captured his lips. It was a quick and desperate kiss. Potter pressed into him, clinging against him. When Potter pulled away, he kept walking away from Draco like he was afraid to pause. “I’ll see you later, Draco.”

Draco swallowed at the sound of his name. “See you around.”

He didn’t watch Potter walk out. Instead he checked the time and found it to be early morning. It was just in time for him to start his own training session. He used the space in the sitting room to go through his exercises and then sat in front of the fire to do his mind exercises. His movements felt sloppy and stilted. He found it almost impossible to keep his concentration.

When he left the room of requirement, he felt steady. He didn’t exactly feel good, and he might not ever feel good again, but he wasn’t going to murder Romanoff the next time he spotted him.

It was still early when he arrived at breakfast. It surprised him to find that Ginny Weasley was there sitting across from Dean Thomas. Their relationship wasn’t obvious, but he let himself acknowledge the aggravation he felt at seeing them. If anyone was going to hurt Potter, it was going to be him.

That thought had him stop halfway in reaching for his toast. Did he really want to hurt Potter? It had been months since he’d even thought about it.

Before he could contemplate the matter further, Nott sat next to him. Draco glanced at him and noticed how drawn he looked.

“What’s wrong?” Draco asked.

“I need to speak with you about something,” Theo said, his voice whining. He stood up as quickly as he’d sat down, expecting Draco to follow him.

“Fine,” Draco said.

The were just out of the great hall when Theo stopped.

“I’m so sorry about this, Draco,” he said, before pulling up his wand and sending an immobilizing spell towards him. Draco sidestepped it, barely moving out of the way in time.

“What the hell is this, Nott,” Draco yelled, firing back another spell.

“You are ordered to stand down by the dark lord,” he tried his best to sound commanding, Draco could tell his heart was in it, but it came out just as sniveling as everything else did.

Draco sent an incarcerous towards Nott and it caught him around the ankles. Nott fell sideways against the stone walls. With a shield in place, Draco stood over Nott. He didn’t want to do anything on school grounds that would get him expelled, but it was tempting.

“Explain this,” Draco demanded. Nott, even more white faced than he had been, pulled out a bit of paper. He held it out to Draco.

“It’s a portkey,” Nott explained. “I was supposed to incapacitate you and then send you to the dark lord. He’s waiting for your arrival.”

“Incapacitate me?” Draco asked. His jaw clenched. The last thing he needed was to be summoned to the dark lord. “Why is it assumed I wouldn’t go willingly?”

Nott looked at the space by Draco’s shoulder, not allowing himself to look him in the eyes. “Ivan requested that the dark lord deal with you for insulting his honor. It was then given to me to see that it be done.”

Draco turned on his heel. It was a bad idea to leave his back open to an enemy, but he doubted Nott’s ability to break through his shields. Blood boiled in his veins. He wanted to hunt down Romanoff and show him how to incapacitate someone properly.

Draco turned back to Nott. “How long has the dark lord been waiting for me?”

“Since last night,” Nott mumbled. “I couldn’t find you.”

Draco steeled his spine. He tried to muster up the confidence he’d found when he’d marched to Voldemort’s door and offered himself up over the summer. All he could find was rage and darkness. He pulled on those feelings, letting them bolster him up. Draco snatched the parchment from Nott’s fingers.

“What’s the activation word?”

“Loyalty,” Nott whined. He twitched on the floor. Draco removed his spells from him and he rose to his feet. Draco bunched Nott’s robes in his hand, jerking him forward so that he could snarl in his face.

“You will let everyone know that I have gone to visit my mother in this difficult time,” Draco spat. He shook Nott. “If you do that, when I return, I will not give you the same treatment that I have in store for Romanoff. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” Nott agreed. Draco shoved him away and Nott fell backwards against the wall again.

Draco took only a minute to shroud his memories with Potter in occlumency shields. He cursed himself the entire time, remembering how possessive the dark lord was when he’d found out about Severus. Severus was at least a loyal death eater. He tried very hard not to imagine what would happen if Voldemort found out about Potter.

When he was done, he activated the portkey. He landed on the rug in Voldemort’s office. He didn’t kneel when he found Voldemort’s red eyes on him. He inclined his head instead.

“Nice to see you, Draco,” Voldemort said. An amused smile stretched across his face. “It appears you were otherwise occupied?”

“As you must know,” Draco began, but had to stop as a cramp formed in his right leg, dropping him to the ground. When he was on one knee, the pain ceased. Voldemort had spelled him into subservience. “My father died during the raid on Azkaban. I needed some time to mourn and remember my father.”

Voldemort tapped his wand against his chin. What a dangerous and stupid thing to do, Draco thought. “i do remember suggesting to Severus that you weren’t ready.”

Draco swallowed. He already felt the guilt of not being able to save his father crashing around his shoulders in a wave. Voldemort walked forward and put his long fingers in Draco’s hair.

“It is a difficult, yet revealing, moment in one’s life when they must put their father behind them and step up into their rightful place in the world,” Voldemort said. He stopped in front of Draco, pinching his chin between his forefinger and thumb. Fear presented itself as Draco struggled to maintain his steady breathing. “Are you loyal to me, Draco?”

“Yes, my lord,” Draco said. He tried to put as much conviction in his voice as possible. Voldemort released his chin and Draco almost gasped in relief.

“Those Black family eyes,” Voldemort whispered to himself. “They’re so guileless in their lies.”

“I’m yours to command, my lord,” Draco said again, feeling a creeping desperation.

“Of course you are, dear,” Voldemort waved him off. “I’ve called you here to discuss the matter of Ivan Romanoff. The Romanoff’s are important political allies. Once quite similar to that of the Malfoy’s in the past. Your father’s inept scheming put an end to that, didn’t they? Forgive me. I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

Draco wanted to be angry. He wanted the rage that he’d felt before portkeying. It was gone though. He only felt the shaking effects of desperate fear. Voldemort turned back to him.

“I’m going to make you scream,” Voldemort said. “It won’t be just for the Romanoff’s brat. I want to make you scream. Truly amazing things are born in a baptism of pain. I want that for you, Draco.”

“Please,” Draco begged. He closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure what he was begging for. Did he want him not to do it at all or to just get it over with faster? In a tiny part of his soul, he knew he came to Voldemort so easily when Nott gave him the portkey because he deserved it after failing his father.

“Open your eyes and stand,” Voldemort ordered. Draco stood and opened his eyes to see Voldemort standing close to him. He began undoing Draco’s tie with a deliberate slowness. Each accidental touch from Voldemort’s hands against his skin made his heart race. “I’ve blocked off my whole morning for you. We’re going to have so much fun.”

He kept undressing Draco with gentle hands and soft touches. Draco kept his gaze down to focus on Voldemort’s chest in front of him. He wore a crisp muggle button down with navy blue dress robes around his shoulders. His tie striped green and black in pinstripe. He wondered what he’d think of this man if he’d seen him out in public. What would he seem like to Draco if he hadn’t seen the man as the monster he’d been?

Draco helped Voldemort shrug him out of his robes and shirts, leaving his chest exposed. When Voldemort’s hands moved to his trousers, cold dread pooled in his gut. He stepped out of his shoes and socks, leaving his bottoms behind to stand naked in front of the dark lord. He shivered and it wasn’t because of the cold. He’d never felt quite so exposed and vulnerable.

When Voldemort raised his wand, Draco wasn’t ready. Pain blossomed against his back, up and down his spinal cord and into his neck and legs. He gasped, rounding forward.

“That’s a taste of what is to come,” Voldemort said. “Bellatrix, my beloved, has been teaching me some fascinating pain spells that work with the sensory receptors of the brain since her release from prison. It’s all quite fascinating.”

Draco screamed when Voldemort hit him with a curse that gouged a wound into his shoulder. Warm blood oozed down his skin.

“I still prefer to see you bleed.”


	19. Chapter 19

Draco left red smears along the manor’s pristine walls. Blood seeped from his nail beds as he limped to his mother’s study. Desperate pain made him whimper as he went, barely restraining himself from outright sobbing. He wanted, needed, to fall unconscious. He kept going only because if a death eater caught him in his weakened state, they’d kill him.

Voldemort put him under the imperious curse to force him to dress himself and leave the office while his body screamed at him to stop moving. Once the door closed behind him, the fog of the spell released him and he felt every inch of his body.

Narcissa opened the door and Draco fell against her. She seemed to crumple under his weight before casting a lightening spell on his body.

“Draco,” she breathed.

“I need help,” Draco wheezed. It came out lisping and broken as there were no teeth in his mouth left after the dark lord was done with him. Narcissa pulled him inside her study and laid him out on her chaise lounge. She cast spell after spell over him, but nothing lessened the pain. 

He slipped in and out of consciousness. After a few times, when he came to, he saw Severus’ black eyes on him. He thought he was dreaming again, but then Severus forced his jaw open and through the screams, managed to get potions down his throat. It burned on their way down, his esophagus raw from screaming.

“Sleep, Draco,” Severus said.

“My mother,” Draco croaked. Narcissa stepped up to stand beside Severus.

“I’m here,” she murmured, placing a hand over his mangled one. As Draco drifted, he heard Severus explaining to his mother the intensive treatment plan that was in order.

When he woke again, he was back in his bedroom at the manor and Narcissa sat in his chair with a book in her hand. He admired her straight back posture and serene expression.

“I’m sorry about your chaise lounge,” Draco said and found his teeth grown back. Blood was tricky to get out of white fabric even with the help of house elf magic. Narcissa closed her book.

“Son,” she said. Draco watched her from half closed lids. He felt like he was flying so high, his consciousness not quite attached to his body. “You’ve been in a healing coma for a week now.”

Draco struggled to sit. His shoulder spasmed and he almost collapsed back down. He found himself shirtless and he noticed faint lines of scaring across his shoulder and chest.

“School—,” Draco started, unable to process what was happening to his body in his state of mind.

“Has been contacted. You are home for a time to take care of family matters,” Narcissa informed him. She moved to stand by Draco’s side. She raised her hand to caress the side of his face.

“We were too soft with you,” she whispered, as if to herself. “We should have prepared you for this.”

Draco reached up to grab her hand.

“Mother, I need to tell you,” Draco began, choking on the words. “When father died during the raid on Azkaban…”

Narcissa squeezed his hand. “Severus told me. Lucius had many faults, but he saved you from being struck by the curse.”

“No,” Draco protested. He struggled to find words in his potions addled brain. “You don’t understand. I was there to bring him home. I failed him. I failed our family.”

Narcissa cupped his face between her hands. “I saw Severus’ pensieve memory of the incident. If anyone is to blame, it is us as parents that failed you. I know I’ve always had high expectations of you, Draco, but this is not one of them.”

Tears pricked Draco’s eyes at the unexpected absence of Narcissa’s usual coldness. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

Narcissa kissed the top of his head. “Death has a way of closing and opening doors. We will move forward. Lucius would want that.”

He nodded, blinking away his tears. He remembered his father telling him to survive. In his current state, he wasn’t sure if he’d succeed. Narcissa pressed him back down against his pillows again.

“You need rest. You return to Hogwarts soon.”

Draco allowed himself to slip back under the sweet release of darkness. Later, Draco found himself waking to an empty room. On his nightstand lay a note that gave him portkey instructions. He’d travel straight into Dumbledore’s office. The thought of being under the old man’s twinkling gaze made him squirm.

He’d only just stood up on shaking legs when someone banged on his door. A gruff voice that he recognized as Fenrir Grayback called through the door. Draco was only in his pajama bottoms, but he grabbed the portkey off his night stand and activated it without much thought.

Seconds later, he found himself half naked in an empty headmaster’s office. Portraits of old headmaster’s snoozed on the wall and Draco realized it must be in the middle of the night. His heart pounded in his chest at narrowly avoiding the werewolf outside his bedroom door. He didn’t want to consider what he wanted with him.

As Draco made his way out of the Headmaster’s office, he became aware of having only thin socks between his feet and the cold stone floor with no shirt on. He crossed his arms over his naked chest and tried to speed walk to the Slytherin dorm. He was just outside the gargoyle to the headmaster’s office when someone grabbed his forearm from seemingly nowhere.

Draco reacted badly. He pulled the hand forward, connecting his knee into the body attached. A low groan escaped the person as Draco flipped them to the ground, pinning them on their back. He panted over the person and when his panic cleared, he recognized Potter’s face staring at him from the ground, his silvery cloak spread out under him.

“Ugh,” Potter groaned, rolling to the side to find his feet. Draco blinked at him, stepping back in a defensive position. Potter wobbled on his feet. “Shacklebolt’s going to kick my ass for letting you drop me like that.”

Draco said nothing. He wanted Potter to disappear so he could get to his dorm, put some real clothes on, and hide from the rest of the Hogwarts population until he could get his bearings.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come back,” Potter tried again. He slurred as he talked. He’d definitely been drinking. “Your name popped up on my map.”

“What do you want, Potter?” Draco snapped, but it came out pitifully weak. “I need to get back to my dorm.”

Potter’s eyes narrowed at him, taking in his lack of clothing and shaking shoulders.

“Were you there?” He asked. Draco relaxed his defensive stance and rubbed his hands over his face, digging the heels into the hollows of his cheeks to feel his teeth. He took a deep breath.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Draco said. “I was at home taking care of family matters. Now I’m back. Can you move out of my way?”

Potter shook his head. He reached drunkenly forward, invading Draco’s space to pull at his forearm. Draco flinched when Potter closed his fingers around his arm even though he found Potter’s touch to be warm and soft. Potter pulled his arm long, running fingertips over the thin flesh of his wrist up to his elbow, tracing the faint blue veins he found there. Draco’s flinch turned into a shiver at the touch.

“I guess you weren’t there,” he said.

“What are you talking about?” Draco found his voice stronger this time, pulling his arm out of Potter’s grasp to hold it against his chest.

“Don’t be stupid,” Potter glared at him.

“Can you just humor me? I’ve been dealing with sensitive issues since I’ve been gone. I haven’t exactly been following the latest gossip.”

“Voldemort’s press conference,” Potter spat. His fingers clenched before he reached into his pocket and brought out his flask. He took a big drink of it. Draco swayed on his feet, lightheadedness catching up with him.

“Press conference?” Draco whispered. He let himself fall against the stone wall, sliding his back all the way down to a sitting position. He reached for Potter’s flask. Potter handed it to him before following him down the wall, their shoulders touching.

“Yeah, the mass murderer and terrorist is back from the dead,” Potter laughed without any amusement. “And he’s campaigning for minister.”

Draco released a desperate noise from his chest. He brought the flask up to his lips and poured the burning liquid down his throat. He choked, most of the liquid landing on his bare chest and lap. As the choking continued, Potter turned to him and rubbed his back.

“It’s insane,” Potter continued. “I thought it was a joke, but people are taking it seriously. This monster is actually being considered a real candidate.”

“No,” Draco wheezed. “No, that’s not right.”

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence, passing the flask back and forth. Draco’s shaking began to increase and when Potter noticed, he pulled his red lumpy sweater over his head, handing it to him.

“I need to go lay down,” Draco said, putting on Potter’s sweater. Potter stood up, offering Draco a hand. Draco’s mind whirled back to when they were eleven and he’d offered Potter his hand. It seemed like a lifetime ago. He took his hand and stood up, Potter catching him in a hug when he swayed forward on his feet.

“Are you okay?” Potter asked. “Why are you half naked out here anyway? Dumbledore call you out of bed or something?”

“It’s a long story,” Draco said.

“Is it because of Snape?”

Dread began to fill him. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He was gone from classes the day before the announcement and hasn’t been back. I think he’s working for Voldemort.”

Draco’s throat clicked. Potter’s arms were still around him and in Potter’s sweater, he was surrounded in his scent. He bent his head to nuzzle against Potter’s hair. It felt nice to be held. His heart beat wildly in his chest. He couldn’t think about Severus. Severus could take care of himself.

“You were checking for a mark on my arm, weren’t you?” Draco asked.

Potter seemed to stop breathing and Draco could tell because of how close he was pressed against him.

“Yes.”

“You think I’m the enemy.”

“I’m Harry fucking Potter, boy-who-lived. I have to make sure you’re not the enemy. Your the son of a former death eater. And anyway, you’d disappeared two days before the announcement, only hours after we’d—”

“After we fucked?”

Potter began to pull away from him, but Draco tightened his arms. He was pretty sure the world was spinning and he was finding it hard to breathe.

“Yes.”

“Let’s do it again,” Draco suggested breathlessly. Potter wriggled free from him and his glasses were crooked, his hair flat where Draco’s face had rested. “Let’s fuck.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Potter said. “You don’t look so good.”

Draco pressed forward, bending his head to connect his lips to Potter’s. When they connected, it was a dry lackluster exchange. It made his heart ache. He turned away from Potter and crossed his arms back over his chest.

“I should get to my dorm.”

“You’re not going to want to do that,” Potter said. “Romanoff’s been telling anyone who’d listen about how he was going to kick your ass when he sees you.”

Draco growled and punched the wall in front of him. He’d not done it hard enough to break his bones, but his knuckles creaked under the weight, his skin cracking open and bleeding. It was Romanoff’s fault Voldemort had summoned him, had tortured him.

“I’ll kill him,” Draco vowed. He wanted Ivan Romanoff under his wand. He wanted to inflict all the pain that Voldemort put him under onto Romanoff. When Potter put his hand on his shoulder, he was ready to drop him again. It took all his self control not to do it again.

“Let’s go back to the room of requirement,” Potter spoke softly, like he was trying not to set off the bomb Draco had inside him. Draco nodded and let himself be guided away. It was a short trip, but Draco felt every step in his body.

Potter took the lead in imagining their space and when Draco walked in, it was a simple dormitory room that was much like the one in Slytherin dorms except for the deep red color of the decor. Only one bed sat in the middle of the room.

“I thought you said you didn’t want to fuck,” he commented dryly. Potter shrugged at him before pulling off his t-shirt and jeans. He pulled back the covers, scooting over to one side and patting the space beside him.

“It’s late and we need to sleep,” Potter said. “Neither one of us can go back to our beds tonight so we might as well share.”

Draco hesitated, really feeling the bone deep exhaustion in his bones before giving in. He pulled Potter’s sweater over his head, folding it before laying it aside.

“Why can’t you return to Gryffindor?”

Potter shrugged. “Ron doesn’t know about Ginny and Dean. He thinks I’m being awful to his sister for breaking it off. And Hermione thinks I’m a shit drunk and she’s done putting up with me.”

Draco didn’t respond as he crawled under the covers. He laid flat on his back, not sure what the boundaries were, but Potter rolled over to him and tucked his head under his chin, his arm stretched across Draco’s middle. Light puffs of air from Potter rose goosebumps on his chest.

It surprised him the next morning how easy it had been to fall asleep.


	20. Chapter 20

Draco woke up gasping, his heart racing. He tried to sit up, but Potter’s leg and arm were thrown over his chest and waist, every piece of skin touching him too hot. Draco swallowed and tried to push down the panic from a half remembered dream. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his breath to even out.

After a minute of trying to clear his mind, he noticed Potter’s dick digging into his hip. Draco noticed his own dick full and heavy pressing against his pajama bottoms. He groaned. Potter rustled against his side at the noise, rocking his hips forward. Draco squeezed his hands into fists trying to stifle the rising adrenaline under his skin.

Potter tilted his head up and kissed his neck.

“You’re awake,” Potter said against his skin, breath sending tingles down his body. Draco made a noise in the back of his throat. Potter pressed his hips forward again and groaned. “I can’t tell if I’m more horny or hungover right now.”

Draco moved, pushing Potter on his back as he hovered over him.

“Let me make it easier for you,” he said and didn’t recognize the sleep heavy desperateness of his voice. “Let me ride you.”

“Oh,” Potter said breathlessly. “Yes, that.”

Draco ran his hands over Potter’s skin, gripping and grabbing rougher than he’d intended. He buried his face into Potter’s neck and bit the skin there. Potter arched under him, connecting their bodies from hip to chest. Draco moaned as he licked the bruise he left.

He pulled his wand from his pajama pocket, vanishing his bottoms and Potter’s underwear. Potter whimpered at the sudden rush of air against his skin. Draco conjured lube on his fingers and reached back to open himself up. Potter’s hands rubbed against his legs, gripping his hips before working over his dick.

Draco had fingered himself open once and he’d let another boy do it to him when he’d been traveling France with Pansy the year before. It had been awkward and a little painful, too high on a the muggle drug ecstasy, but he’d made him see stars while Pansy had sucked his dick. He scissored his fingers inside himself, ignoring the ache. He needed Potter inside him.

Potter sat up, cupping his face and kissing his lips. He let his head hang forward to rest against Potter’s cheek while he pushed deeper into himself. After awhile, he pulled his fingers from his hole, pushing Potter’s shoulders back down. He covered Potter’s dick with a generous amount of lube.

Potter bit his lip and when Draco settled himself over him, he let out a strangled noise. There was no drug fogging his mind to the sensation of being opened up and filled. Draco slid a little way down, the ache making him pause.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Potter said. “Go slow.”

Draco shook his head. He wanted to fuck hard and fast. He wanted the stars behind his eyes and the ache in ass. He wanted to be released from his whirring mind for the next few minutes and feel his body. Draco shifted further on Potter’s dick. Potter’s hands were on Draco’s hips as if holding on for his life. Draco wanted bruises on his skin from it later.

He leaned forward, positioning himself a little differently, and slid back. The muscles in his legs twitched and Potter groaned under him. He kept his momentum up, rocking back and forth, Potter’s dick filling him up a little more.

“Fuck,” Potter breathed. He ran his hand up Draco’s side as he moved, burying it in his hair. Draco closed his eyes, his body tingling from the angle of Potter’s dick inside him. He clenched down and Potter’s hips twitched up.

“Yes,” Draco said, “Yes, there. Fuck me.”

He held his hips still as Potter got his feet under him, bending his knees, and began to thrust. Draco let himself rock backwards to meet him, his head falling back with his eyes closed. Potter’s hands moved over his chest, tweaking his nipples as they traveled down his stomach. He shuddered as Potter gripped his dick and started to stroke him in time with the thrusts.

Potter began to pick up speed. Draco moaned louder, unable to keep the noises in. Heat began to burn in his groin, his balls tightening after each slap of Potter’s skin against his own. 

“I’m going to come,” Draco moaned. Potter groaned under him, tilting his hips to work himself deeper and faster into him. His hand kept working Draco’s cock. Draco spasmed as he came, his body jerking as come splashed against Potter’s chest. He opened his eyes after the quakes abated and found Potter clenching his eyes shut under him.

Draco kept his hips still as Potter fucked into him, chasing his release. He watched the tension in Potter’s face, the way he set his jaw, biting his already raw lip. As Draco watched a bead of sweat make it’s way down the hollow of his cheek, his eyes were drawn to Potter’s scar.

It was half hidden under Potter’s black hair, but the part that wasn’t covered was a vivid red. A flicker of unease passed over him. Then Potter was coming with a choked gasp and when his eyes flew open, they were a violent red. Blood began to ooze out of Potter’s scar, getting caught in black hair.

Draco couldn’t move. His breath caught in his chest. Those red eyes pinned him in place as Potter stopped moving his hips. His hands were on Draco’s face, petting his neck and hair with gentle touches.

“Are you okay?” Potter asked, panting. When Potter blinked, the red seeped away from his iris’, the green becoming more visible. Draco felt the languidness of his limbs after an orgasm hit him hard. He pulled himself off Potter’s dick and they both winced. He felt Potter’s come start to drip out of his hole and picked up his wand to banish it from his body. He still needed a bath, but that helped until he could get one.

“I’m great, Potter,” Draco said, sitting on the edge of the too small bed. His ass ached, his body ached, but it was in a way that he wanted. He chose that particular pain in his body. He’d inflicted it on himself. “I thought I saw… I mean, your scar. It started bleeding.”

Potter sat up, touching his forehead. His fingers came away bloody.

“Oh,” Potter said. “That happens sometimes when I’m feeling a lot of… strong emotions.”

Potter grabbed his wand and cast a few cleaning charms on himself, Draco’s come disappearing from his chest. Draco rested his elbows on his knees and pressed his forehead against the heels of his hands.

“That doesn’t seem normal.”

Potter shifted on the bed to sit upright. “You’re freaked out.”

Draco straightened. “No shit.”

Potter placed a hand on Draco’s back.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have warned you. I just didn’t expect it to happen really. It never happened before… with Ginny. Or anyone else.”

Draco rolled his eyes. His mind flashed to all the possibilities of whom Potter could have slept with. It helped to settle his mind, to stop replaying the image of Voldemort’s eyes staring at him from Potter’s face. His mind was playing tricks on him. He needed help. He almost laughed. Who would help him?

He stood, stretching.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Draco said, walking towards an adjoining bathroom door.

“I’ll come with you,” Potter said, making to stand. Draco waved him back down.

“I need a minute, okay?”

Potter stared back at him with wide eyes, green thankfully. It concerned him only a little that a red streak of blood rolled down the side of his face.

Draco made his way to the small adjoining bathroom and he used the shower to scrub himself down. He let the steaming water fall against him as he tried to pull himself together. Trying to think of next steps had him on the verge of an anxiety attack, but he pushed through it.

Severus was missing. He’d seen him at the manor helping his mother patch him up. He doubted he’d of made the recovery he’d had without him. Did it mean he wasn’t coming back? He needed Severus now more than ever. He wasn’t sure he’d make it without him.

Voldemort was running for political office. The mere thought of Voldemort had Draco shaking, but he forced himself through it. It suddenly made sense that Voldemort shed his monster skin for that of a man. It made sense that he’d flooded the news and government with anti-muggle and anti-muggleborn propaganda to pave a legitimate path to power.

He couldn’t think of Voldemort anymore without crumpling so he turned his thoughts to Ivan Romanoff. The anxiety he’d been feeling morphed to anger and he held on to it like a lifeline.

He was going to get his house back. He was going to get his friends back. He was going to destroy Romanoff.

Draco turned the water off, rolling his shoulders back. He was a Malfoy after all. Voldemort may have broken him, but his place in the world. He wasn’t going to stand by any longer and let someone like Ivan Romanoff knock him down.

He came out of the bathroom in a towel. Potter must of cast more cleaning spells on himself because he looked clean and tidy. He’d made the bed and laid across it on his stomach reading a book.

“Hey,” Potter said, a smile on his lips at seeing Draco. The affection he found there made Draco’s skin crawl. “There’s clothes for you in the wardrobe.”

Draco nodded. He found a Slytherin uniform in there that happened to be his size and put it on. He felt Potter’s eyes on him as he changed. When he finished, he walked back to the bed and sat down. Potter scrambled to sit next to him.

“What are we doing, Potter?” Draco asked.

“I dunno,” he said. “Fucking in secret?”

“You thought I was a death eater.”

“Yeah, but you’re not,” Potter tilted his head at him. “Right?”

Draco scowled at him. He wasn’t technically a death eater.

“I’m not.” At least, not yet, he added to himself. He wasn’t sure how to explain to Potter that Voldemort lived in his home and kept his mother practically prisoner within its walls.

“And — I can’t believe I’m asking this — you’re not supporting Voldemort’s bid for minister, right?”

Draco couldn’t stand Potter staring at him with the crease between his eyebrows. He stood up and rested his hand against the wall, letting his head hang between his shoulders.

“I’m the last of the Malfoy pureblood line,” he said, the words like dust in his mouth. “There will be certain obligations expected of me and my mother.”

“Sure, but you aren’t going to, right?”

Draco didn’t know. He wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to see that monster in any position of power. He’d meant what he’d said to Severus about Voldemort not really caring about pureblood values. He used the rhetoric to drum up supporters and start a cult like following. He’d twisted it to become more of a fascination of power instead of an advocate for pureblood status and tradition.

And there was blood, a lot of blood, involved with quite a bit of it being Draco’s. He turned back to Potter.

“I don’t want to,” Draco whispered. The admission felt like a betrayal. Draco had never thought of himself as a traitor, but in that moment, with Voldemort’s public enemy number one, he was. Admitting that he didn’t want to support the dark lord in any capacity was like turning his back on his name, his family, and everything he thought he was. Draco turned back to face Potter. He was standing, a frown pulling down his lips. Draco wondered if he’d started drinking already. “If certain obligations aren’t met, my mother and I—“ he swallowed. “My mother and I will be in considerable danger.”

He’d been whispering by the time he’d finished talking.

“You know where he is,” Potter said, his voice a monotone. “They’ve reached out to you already, haven’t they? I didn’t think they’d want you, a student at Hogwarts, but it makes sense.”

Draco said nothing. Goosebumps raised on the back of his neck. He kept his hand close to his wand holster. His instinct were screaming that Potter was about to attack him. Potter didn’t go for his wand, though. He walked forward, grabbing Draco by the neck. Draco flinched.

“Is this some kind of fucking game?” Potter growled.

“What else could this ever be, Potter?” Draco drawled. “The son of a death eater and the chosen one? Did you think we were going to fall in love and run away together?”

Potter squeezed his neck hard and Draco wondered if he’d try to strangle him. He let go right before Draco drew his wand and shoved him hard. Draco was ready for it and only swayed a little from the force, his weight distributed so that his opponent in battle couldn’t maneuver him into a corner. Potter drew out his wand and cast a blasting curse, striking the wardrobe and blowing it up into a tiny flying shards of wood. Draco brought up his forearm to protect his face.

“You said you were in danger,” Potter said, still turned away from Draco, white knuckling his wand. “Are you doing this so I’ll talk to Dumbledore into giving you protection?”

Draco released a small miff of laughter. “I don’t need you, Potter.”

“Then why?” Potter asked, turning to him with a flushed face and bright eyes behind his glasses. “Why are we doing this?”

Draco licked his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t walked out yet.

Because you’re the only one that can relate to what I’m going through. You’re the only one that’s looked at me twice in months. I’m so lonely, I need someone even if it’s you. Because when you kissed me on the top of the astronomy tower last year, I can’t get you out of my head. Draco let all the possible replies run through his head before dismissing them. The muscle in his jaw tightened. “I don’t know.”

Potter tugged at his hair while glaring at him. He took a step forward and he was right up in Draco’s space. A shiver ran down Draco’s back. He couldn’t be sure if Potter was going to punch him or kiss him and he loved that feeling.

“I don’t trust you,” Potter whispered. Draco watched as his pink lips moved around the words. He licked his lips.

“You probably shouldn’t,” he said. Potter closed his eyes, his long eyelashes sweeping across the tops of his cheeks. Draco leaned forward and kissed him. Potter relaxed under him and he brought his hands up to bury in Potter’s hair. When Potter opened his mouth, Draco licked into his heat and found the sharp taste of vodka. He wanted more already and pressed himself close to his body.

Potter pulled back, Draco’s fingers slipping from his hair.

“Sorry,” Potter said. “But I’ve got to go. I promised Luna we’d work on the essay due for Charms today.”

Draco took a step back and sighed. “I have something I need to take care of as well.”

“Yeah,” Potter smiled at him like he’d never been angry at him. “First day back. Bet you’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

“Right,” Draco agreed. Potter cupped his cheek with a warm hand, running his thumb over his cheek.

“I’m sorry you lost your dad,” he said, and Draco’s heart pinged in his chest. He blinked to keep his eyes from tearing at the sudden feeling.

“Me too.”

Potter kissed his other cheek then pulled away from him.

“You’re welcome to come here any time,” Potter said, pausing halfway out the door. “What with Romanoff and everything. I’m here most nights.” Potter made a face. “It’s hard to sleep in a room with Ron and Dean these days.”

Draco nodded and Potter was gone. He threw himself on the bed, burying his face into the pillows and finding Potter’s sandalwood scent there. He allowed himself a few minutes to plan his return to Slytherin.


	21. Chapter 21

Draco stalked into the Slytherin dorms, the black cloak he’d rustled up from the room of requirement snapping around his legs. He observed the common room as he made his way into the room. A group of younger years clustered around a table playing chess.

“Leave,” he growled at them. At his word, they gathered their belongings and left. He still had the presence of mind to avoid traumatizing children.

Ivan Romanoff sat with Draco’s friends in front of the fireplace draped over the armchair like a king holding court. Pansy sat between Vince and Greg on the couch and Daphne Greengrass stretched out on the opposite loveseat. Other Slytherins watched Draco from their places across the room. Draco noted that Blaise was looking at him from over the edge of his book.

“Ivan,” Draco drawled, stopping behind the armchair. Ivan’s blond head tilted up to look at Draco. He smirked and moved to stand. Draco allowed him to straighten up, waiting for his moment. His body thrummed with bloodlust.

“Draco,” Ivan matched Draco’s cadence. “How was your time at the manor?”

Draco slammed his fist into Ivan’s face for two quick jabs. It was precise and nothing like how he’d wildly attacked Potter. He knew the exact amount of damage he intended to inflict. Ivan’s head snapped back and his hands came up to his face. Blood trickled from his lips.

“How dare you?” Ivan gasped. Draco didn’t let him get another word in. He grabbed Ivan by his front and moved him bodily to the center of the floor. He wanted everyone to get a good view. He snatched Ivan’s wand from his wand holster in his sleeve before kicking him in the leg, making him fall to his hands and knees. “You can’t do this!”

Draco twirled Ivan’s wand in his hand. He really liked Ivan on his knees in front of him with blood on his face. Then a wave of nausea hit him. Voldemort probably felt the same way seeing him on his knees like that.

“Draco, what are you doing?” Vince asked. He was on his feet with a wand in his hand, but he let it hang by his side.

“Sit down, Vince, if you know what’s good for you,” Draco hissed at his old friend. Vince felt like stranger to him now. He’d hurt him if needed, but he didn’t want to. Vince sat down on the edge of his seat. Draco observed the room as Ivan struggled to stand. Everyone’s attention focused on Draco. He bowed for his audience. “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight I will have a dog perform a trick.”

“You will pay for this, Malfoy,” Ivan snarled and lunged for him. Draco struck him in the solar plexus and Ivan rocked backwards, very nearly crumpling to the ground again. He walked behind Ivan and gripped the back of his neck.

“This bitch will bark on my command,” Draco smiled at his audience. He caught a view of a few stricken faces. “His bark will sound a lot like an apology to me.”

“When my father hears about this—“ Ivan cut off as Draco dug the tip of a wand into the soft part of his neck. He cast a dark spell that made the victim feel like they were being crushed. It was tricky to perform verbally and with his own wand, but he did it nonverbal with Ivan’s wand.

“I used to say that a lot as well,” Draco laughed. “I can’t do that now because he’s dead.”

Ivan began to twitch against him.

“Draco,” Pansy whispered from her frozen position on the couch. “I think you’re killing him.”

Draco released the spell. “We can’t have that. I need him to bark first. Bark, bitch.”

“I’m sorry,” Ivan mumbled through trembling lips. Draco turned Ivan so that he faced him. He noted the whites of Ivan’s eyes from fear.

“If you ever think that you can have me dealt with again,” Draco said while smiling too wide. “I’ll start to remove bits from your body. Maybe it’ll be while you’re sleeping or maybe one day you’ll be walking the corridors alone.” Draco moved Ivan’s wand over his pinky finger before hovering right over his groin. “Perhaps it’ll be insignificant bits or maybe it’ll be more important to you. Do you understand me, bitch?”

“Yes,” Ivan said. Draco shoved him away and stepped back. He caught the gaze of everyone in the room before turning away. He left Ivan gasping for breath as he exited the common room.

He’d wanted humiliating Ivan to make him feel better, but the aches in his body were still present even if they were phantom. The ones Potter left on Draco made it a little easier to carry on.

Draco was almost to the winding staircase when he heard Pansy call out to him. He thought about ignoring her before he took a deep breath and turned around. She walked fast to catch up with him and the flush on her cheeks did her wonders. He still missed her bold lipstick though.

“What do you need, Pansy?” Draco asked, his tone clipped. Pansy brought up her wand and with a shining light, removed a charm covering her cheek. When she lowered her wand, a dark bruise colored the skin there.

“I’m glad you kicked his ass,” she whispered. Draco’s blood began to boil. He stepped forward, his breath caught in his throat. He brought his fingers up to touch the bruise, but Pansy grabbed his wrist. “Save your pity. I would have kicked his ass myself, but my family—“

Draco released a huff of breath. “He’s holding them hostage over you. You’re right to hold back. His family is powerful. I felt the full force of that power last week.”

Pansy’s eyes widened a fraction.

“What happened?”

“Nothing I want to talk about right now,” Draco said. “Or ever.”

Pansy nodded. She charmed her cheek back to cover the ugly bruise.

“Does he hit you often?”

“That was the first and only time he’s ever hit me,” Pansy grumbled. “I thought about cursing his dick off, but you kind of beat me to that.”

“I’ll do it just for you, Pans,” Draco said, meaning every word. “I’ve missed you.”

Pansy threw her arms around him, squeezing too tight.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Pansy said. When she released him, Draco noticed that her brown eyes were shining with barely concealed tears. “I can’t stay. You’re still kind of a black sheep around here. I’m sure that won’t last long after what you did to Ivan. No one will respect him anymore, no matter how powerful the Romanoff’s are.”

Draco gave Pansy a real smile, one he wasn’t sure he’d retained since before his father was sentenced to Azkaban.

“I get it,” he said. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. She tilted her head up and caught his lips against hers in a brief kiss. When he pulled away from the kiss he rested his forehead against Pansy’s. “I’m not sure what’s going to happen, Pans, but I want you to know that I love you and I need you to protect yourself.”

Pansy reached for his hand and squeezed his fingers. “I’m always careful.”

They stood together for a few moments longer before breaking apart. Draco watched as she made her way down to the dungeons. He felt like he should have been accompanying her, plotting against Gryffindors as they went, but that was a different lifetime.

Draco rolled his shoulders back. He had something else he needed to do. He made his way to the hospital wing. He needed to steal potions ingredients. He’d debated going to Severus’ storage, but he figured the wards would be easier to break in the hospital wing.

The wing was quiet and no one rested in the hospital beds. He was lucky for that at least. He disabled the wards guarding the medical potions lab and stole only a little of the rare ingredients so that it wouldn’t be noticed that he’d pinched them. Once he put the wards back in place, he sighed in relief. He was six hours away from oblivion.

Severus would be disappointed in him, but he was gone. Draco doubted he’d see him at Hogwarts again.

He found a dusty classroom to set up his makeshift lab and went to work. As he prepared the ingredients, he began to feel something other than pain and loss. He began to feel the overwhelming desire for his potion. He was so close he could taste it.

The classroom didn’t have any windows in it. When he cast the time telling charm after he bottled his fifteenth vial of the potion, he was just in time for breakfast. His eyes felt heavy and dried out. He closed his eyes and downed a vial in one gulp.

It started working the instant he swallowed. Numb euphoria drifted like a warm blanket across his extremities.

Finally, he could breathe without weight on his shoulders and chest. He laughed at the feeling of relief. If was like drinking liquid freedom.

He miniatured his vials and stored them in his cloak pocket. He probably needed a shower, but he couldn’t be bothered to take the time. He cast a few cleaning charms, giggling at the sensation they left across his skin.

Draco arrived at breakfast feeling like he was walking on clouds. The majority of the student body was there when he entered and the the loud buzzing of chatter quietened as he walked to the Slytherin table. He smiled and waved at his housemates who stared at him in wide-eyed fascination.

He sat down and buttered his toast without care. The taste of the bread made him moan audibly around a mouthful. It could have been poisoned and Draco wouldn’t have minded. He licked his fingers clean from the butter. Fingers in his mouth made him think of Potter and he moaned again at the thought. 

Draco looked toward the Gryffindor table and didn’t find Potter there. He stood up and decided to go find him. He left without looking back, surprised no one tried to hex him on his way out. Perhaps Ivan’s buddies weren’t as loyal as once perceived.

Draco walked past the Charms classroom, his distracted mind forgetting that he was looking for Potter, when a hand snatched his arm and dragged him into an empty broom closet. Draco’s reflexes were completely off. He couldn’t fight the person as they slammed his back into the wall. Draco blinked his eyes a few times to gain focus. When he did, Potter’s green eyes looked at him through thick lenses.

“Oh, it’s just you,” Draco said. He put his hands up to frame Potter’s face. Potter batted his hands down.

“Just me, huh?” Potter bit at him. “Were you expecting it to be Parkinson to pull you into a broom closet or is there someone else, too?”

“Pansy? Pull me into a broom closet?” Draco laughed. “I don’t think you know who you’re talking about.”

Potter shoved him against the wall again.

“I saw you with her last night, kissing her,” Potter snarled. Draco blinked at Potter before shaking his head.

“Are you stalking me?” He asked. Potter’s frown deepened.

“I was worried about you, but maybe I shouldn’t have been.”

“Nope, no need to worry about me,” Draco said, placing his hands on Potter’s shoulders. He tried to pat him soothingly, but it felt off. “I’m doing good. Like really, really good.”

Potter made to turn away from him, but Draco stopped him. He didn’t want Potter to get farther away. He wanted him closer. Draco kissed him. Potter stood stiffly under his touch before softening. He began to move closer to Draco, pressing his body firmly against his as he opened his mouth to lick inside Draco’s mouth.

Draco moaned and pulled away, leaning his head back against the wall. He was getting too hot too fast and it all felt so fucking good. Potter’s lips pressed insistent against the pulse of Draco’s neck, hands tugging at Draco’s hair, making him arch his neck back to give Potter more access. He bit into Draco’s skin and Draco let out a surprised yelp. Heat raced through his body as Potter pressed his hand against his mouth to silence him.

“Quiet, Draco, or someone will hear us,” Potter whispered against the shell of his ear. “You wouldn’t want Pansy to find out, would you?”

Potter unbuttoned his trousers, pulling them down with his underwear. He began to stoke Draco into hardness. Potter moved his hand away from Draco’s mouth and kissed him, swallowing the involuntary sounds Draco made as Potter worked his cock. When Potter pulled back, his eyes were dark behind his glasses and his lips were kiss swollen. Draco whined. 

“You’re mine,” Potter said. Draco released a breathless laugh.

“Are you jealous, Potter?” Draco asked incredulously. The hand that worked him over, fingers dipping into his slit to rub precome over his dick, paused. Draco closed his eyes. “Don’t stop now.”

“Maybe I should,” Potter growled. Draco’s slid his eyes open to look at Potter, noticing the frustrated frown on his face. Draco pulled Potter into a messy open mouth kiss.

“I’m yours, Potter,” Draco whispered against his lips. A small noise escaped from the back of Potter’s throat as he got on his knees in front of Draco. Green eyes looked up at him, daring him to tell him to stop. Potter kitten licked the tip and Draco gasped as Potter took him in all at once, his dick hitting the back of Potter’s throat.

“Fuck, where’d you learn to do that?” Draco’s hands threaded into Potter’s hair as he pulled off. Draco wanted to tug his mouth back down or fuck into it. He didn’t. He stilled and let Potter give him what he was willing to give. It was difficult when everything felt so fuzzy and delicious. Potter slid his mouth back down, swallowing around Draco’s dick making his hips twitch up. He pulled off Draco with an obscene slurp.

“Say it again,” Potter demanded and his voice was even more rough after having Draco’s dick hitting the back of his throat. Draco tightened his fingers in his hair and Potter moaned, closing his eyes at the sensation.

“I’m yours,” Draco repeated and Potter swallowed him down again. Draco kept his tight grip on Potter’s hair, reveling in the little moans it pulled out of Potter while he bobbed on his dick, his lips stretched red around him. 

Draco fought the urge to come, wanting to watch Potter devour him on his knees a little longer, but felt the tightness in his balls as Potter sunk low on his dick. He jerked at Potter’s hair to tell him to stop.

“I’m close, Potter,” he growled. Potter stayed on put, his fingers gripping Draco’s hips tight. Draco came, his hand coming to his mouth to muffle any noises. Potter swallowed him down, milking him until Draco was too sensitive and had to feebly shove him off. 

Draco effectively felt like jelly against the stone wall behind him as Potter pulled his trousers back up, petting his hair softly as he made him presentable again. Draco leaned forward and caught Potter’s still wet lips with his own and kissed him deeply, tasting himself on his tongue.

“You’re mine, too,” Draco murmured against his lips. He reached between Potter’s legs, but Potter caught his wrist.

“We don’t have time,” Potter explained, nuzzling Draco’s neck. “Next time though.”

They stayed like that, entwined against each other, breathing each other’s scent and feeling each other’s heart beats until Potter pulled away.

“I’m yours,” Potter whispered before ducking out the closet door.

Draco was glad Potter left after he said those words because he wasn’t too high to know that he didn’t want him to see his reaction.


End file.
